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MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  iirui    ISO   IfcSr    LHARI    No     2 


1.0 


12.8 


I.I 


1.25 


t  1^ 


1.4 


|[[[[2j_ 
II  2.2 
[2.0 

1.8 
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A     ^PPLIEQ  irvMGE     Ir 


bij    last    M3n    Slr»el 
-ochester,    New   York         14609       U5A 
■  1 6)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 


1^1      '\'''°"^"-'°'^'y        BibLoiheque  nationale 
^        ■      ■''  Canada  h..  r:.r,^^« 


Canada  aj  Canada 


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Canada 


THE  LADY  DOC 


SECOND   EDITION 


By    CAROLINE    LOCK  HART 


"Me-Smith" 

"The  strongest,  most  consistent 
story  of  the  West  which  has 
appeared  in  years,  and  in  many 
important  points  excels  «The 
Virginian.'  It  marics  the 
author  as  the  possessor  of 
unquestioned  literary  genius." 
—  Chicago  Daily  News 

five  Spiriud  Illustrations 
By  Gayle  lloskins 

i2mo.     Cloth,    $T.20  net. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


PHILADELPHIA 


•iiii;  HKsi  (  MUHiiM.r,  II  M)  I  wnifK  \\i>  r.viiiV  uriiKii  (  ii  vmuk.h 

U  A-    1  II. I, II) 

I'li'je  Jtio 


f  I  ^ 


rilKLADV  I)0(^ 


BY 

(  AUOLIXi:    LOCKIIAUT 

AUTiioii  or  "me-bmitu" 


WITH  ILIXSTKATIOXS  BY 
CiAYLE    HOSKINS 


TORONTO 
rUOM  \S  I WCTOV 

1912 


COPTBIOHT,   191  2,  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANT 


FDBUSBED  8EPTEMDEB,    IQIJ 


FEINTED   BT  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANT 

AT  THE  WASHINGTON  SQUARE  PBEB8 

PfllLADELPBIA,    U.  S.  A. 


ii 


liyK 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTBB  pj^CB 

I.    The  "  Canuck  "  That  Saved  Floxjr  Gold t 

II.    The  Hlmor  of  the  Fate  Lachesis i; 

III.     A   MisALIJANCE 31 

rV.     "  The  Ground  Floor  " 43 

V.    Another  Case  in  Surgkhy SQ 

VI.     "The  Church  Racket" 70 

VII.    The  Sheep  from   the   Goats 77 

VIII.     "  The  Chance  op  a  Lifetime  " 90 

IX.    The  Wat3  of  Poute  Society 99 

X.    Essie  Tisdale's  Enforced  Abnegation 110 

XI.    The  Opening  Wedge 120 

XII.    Their  First  Clash 127 

XIII.  Essie  Tisdale's  Colors 139 

XIV.  "The  Ethics  of  the  Professton" 147 

XV.    Symes's  Authority 165 

XVI.    The  Top  Wave 172 

XVII.     The  Possible  Investor 179 

XVIII.     "  Hek  Supreme  Moment  " I88 

XIX.     "  Down  and  Out  " 213 

XX.    An  Unfortunate  Affair 234 

XXI.    Turning  a   Corner 248 

XXII.    Crowheart's  First  Murder  Mystery 259 

XXIII.  Symes  Meets  the  Homeseekers 271 

XXIV.  The    Dago    Duke    and    Dan    Treu    Exchange 

Confidences 280 

XXV.     Crowheart  Demands  Justice 288 

XXVI.    Latin  Methods 294 

XXVII.    Essie  Tisdale's  Moment 303 

XXVIII.    The  Sweetest  Thing  in  the  World 312 

XXIX.     "  The  Bitter  End  " 325 

XXX.    "Thicker  Than  Water  " 332 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Fibst  Cahtridge  Had  Jamated  and  Evert  Otheb  Cham- 
BEB  Was  Filled Frontispiece 

"Old  Ho88,  You  Oughtn't  to  Lie  to  Me  Like  That" 62 

"No,  Essie  Tisdale,  I  Can't  Just  See  You  in  ant  Such 
Setttno  AS  That" ,,, 

He  Laid  Hia  Huge  Hand  Upon  Hek  Shouldeb  and  Thbust 
Her  Into  a  Chair 322 


THE  LADY  DOC 


The  "  Caxiw^k  "  That  Saved  Flour  Gold 

"A  FELix)w  must  have  somc-tu.ng  ajjainst  himself- 
he  certainly  must-to  live  down  here  year  i-  and  year 
out  and  never  do  a  liek  of  work  on  a  trail  like  this 
hat  he  s  usm  constant.  Gettin '  off  half  a  dozen  times 
to  hf  the  front  end  of  your  horse  around  a  point, 
and  then  the  back  end-there 's  nothin '  ^o  it " ' 

Grumbling  to  himself  and  talking,,  whimsieallv  to 
the  three  horses  strinfrinjj  behind  him,  Diek  Ki^ca.d 
P.eked  h,.s  way  down  the  zigzag,  sidling  trail  whieh 
ed  irom  the  saddleback  between  two  peaJ<s  of  the 
Bitter  Root  Mcnintains  into  the  valley  which  still 
iay  tar  below  him. 

' '  Quit  yi.ur  erowdin ',  can 't  you,  Baldy ! ' '  He  laid 
a  restraining  hand  upon  tJie  white  nose  of  the  horse 
following  close  at  his  heels.  "Want  to  jam  me  off 
this  ledge  and  send  me  rollin  two  thousand  feet  down 
onto  their  roof  ?    Good  as  I've  been  to  you  too'" 

He  stopped  and  peered  over  the  edge  of  the  preci- 
pice along  which  the  faint  trail  ran 
_'  Looks  like  smoke."  He  nodded  in  satisfaction. 
Yes,  Us  smoke.  Long  pa..t  dinner  time,  but  then 
these  squaws  go  to  eookin'  whenever  they  happen  to 
think  a  out  it.  Lord,  but  I'm  hungry!  'wirh'some 
gooddookin  s,,uaw  would  get  took  with  me  and  follow 
me  off,  for  I  sure  hates  eookin'  and  housework." 

9 


10 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Still  talking  to  himself  he  resumed  the  descej  , 
slippinp:  and  sliding  and  digging  his  heels  hard  to  hold 
himself  back. 

"They  say  she  sticks  like  beeswax,  Dubois's 
Bquaw,  never  tries  t(i  run  off  but  stays  right  to  home 
raisin'  up  a  batch  of  young  'utis.  You  take  these 
Nez  Perces  and  they're  good  Injuns  as  Injuns  go. 
Smarter 'u  most,  fair  lookers,  and  tole.able  clean. 
Will  you  look  at  that  infernal  pack  slippin'  again, 
and  right  here  where  there's  no  chance  to  fix  it! 

"Say,  but  I'd  like  to  get  my  thumb  in  the  eye  of 
the  fellow  that  made  these  pack-saddles.  Too  narrow 
by  four  inches  for  any  horse  not  just  off  grass  and 
roUin'  fat.  Won't  fit  any  horse  that  packs  in  these 
hills.  Doggone  it,  his  back '11  be  a.s  raw  as  a  piece  of 
beefsteak  and  if  there's  anything  iu  this  world  that  I 
hate  it's  to  pack  a  sore-backed  horse. 

"You  can  bet  I  wouldn't  a  made  this  trip  for 
money  if  I  wasn't  so  plumb  anxious  to  see  how  Du- 
bois saves  that  flour  gold.  You  take  one  of  these  here 
'canucks'  and  he  's  blamed  near  as  good  if  not  a 
better  placer  miner  than  a  Chink;  more  ingenious  and 
just  as  savin'.  Say,  Baldy,  -will  you  keep  off  my 
heels?  If  I  have  to  tell  you  again  about  walkin'  up 
my  pant  leg  I  aim  to  break  your  head  in.  It's  bad 
enough  to  come  down  a  trail  so  steep  it  wears  your 
back  hair  off  t'hout  havin'  your  clothes  tore  off  you 
into  the  bargain." 

And  so,  entertaining  himself  with  his  own  conver- 
sation and  scolding  amiably  at  his  saddle  and  pack 
horses,  the  youthful  prospector  slid  for  another  hour 
down  the  mountain  trail,  though,  as  a  rock  would  fall, 
the  log  house  of  the  French  Canadian  was  not  more 
than  a  thousand  yards  below. 


THE  "CANUCK"  u 

It  was  the   middle   of  May  and   tli.   deop  snows 
of  winter  still  lay  in  the  passes  and  upon  the  summit 
but  m  the  valley  the  violets  made  purple  blotches 
alon-  the  stream  now  foaming'  with  the  force  of  the 
water  tncklin.n.  from  the  mcltin;,'  drifts  above      The 
thorn  bushes  were  white  with  blossoms  and  the  ser- 
v.ce-berry  bushes  were  like  fragrant  banks  of  snow 
Accustomed  as  he  wa.s  to  the  beauty  of  valleys  and 
the  grandeur  of  peaks,  something  in  the  peaceful  scene 
l-^^nv  him  stirred  the  soul  of  young  Dick  Kincaid, 
and  he  stopped  to  look  before  he  made  the  la^t  drop 
into  the  valley.  ^ 

"Ain't  that   a  young  paradise?"     He   breathed 
deep  of  the  odorous  air.    "Ain't  it,  now?" 

The  fciint  blue  smoke  rising  straight  among  the 
white  blossoms  reminded  him  again  of  his  hunger 
so,  wipmg  the  perspiration  from  his  snow-burned 
fa^e  he  started  on  again,  but  when  he  came  to  the 
d.  ch  which  carried  water  from  the  strc'am  through 
a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  sluice-boxes  he  stopped 
and  examined  with  eager  interest  the  methods  u.od 
for  saving  fine  gold,  for.  keen  as  was  his  hunger,  the 
miner  s  instinct  within  him  was  keener. 

"Will  you  look  at  the  lumber  he's  whip-sawed'" 
Astonishment  was  in  his  voice !  ' '  Whip-sawin '  lumber 
IS  the  hardest  work  a  man  ever  did.  I'll  bet  the 
squaw  was  on  the  other  end  of  that  saw;  I  never  heard 
oi  Dubois  hiring  help.  Th-huh,  he  uses  the  Carriboo 
riffles.  Look  at  the  work  he's  been  to-punchin'  all 
those  holes  in  that  sheet-iron.  And  here's  two  boxes 
ot  pole  riffles,  and  a  set  of  Ilun-arian  rifflps  rot  to 
mention  three  distributin'  boxes  and  a  table.  Say 
he  isn't  takin'  any  chances  on  losin'  anything  is  he"? 


But  it's  all  right  vou  cott.q  h.p  ni^.f^.f-.-.] 


*  ±1.       .  1    •         ■  -      ,    . 

Willi   THiS  iigill 


1~  Tin:   LADV  DOC 

mM  an.l  h(^1vy  sand.     I'm  liable  to  Icam  somcthin- 
down  here.     Lord  I'm  hun^'ry !     Come  on.   lialdy!"'' 
As  he  pulled  hi.s  saddle  horse  in  the  direetioii  of 
the  smoke  he  noticed  that  there  were  no  footprints 
in  the  trail   and  a  stillness  which  impressed  him  jus 
peculiar  pervade.l  the   place.      There   was  som.'thin- 
which  he  missed-what  was  it?     To  be  sure— <Jo-.sl 
There   were  no  barkinj;  dojrs  to  fjreet  him.      It  was 
curious,  he  thoufrht,  for  the,s<.  isolated  families  always 
had  plenty  of  do^^.s  and  no  "breed"  or  "Injun"  out- 
fit ever  kept  fewer  than  six.     There  were  no  shrill 
voices  of  children  at  play,  no  sound  of  an  axe  or  a 
saw  or  a  liammer. 

"Blamed  funny,"  he  muttered,  yet  he  knew  where 
there  was  smoke  there  must  be  human  beings. 

He  .stopped  short  at  some  sound  and  listened 
attentively.  A  whimpering  minor  -ail  reached  him 
faintly.  It  wa.s  unlike  any  sound  he  ever  had  heard, 
yet  he  knew  it  was  a  woman's  voice.  There  wa.s 
something  in  the  cadence  which  sent  a  chill  over  him 
He  di-<.i.ped  the  bridle  reins  and  walked  softly  don-u 
the  trail.  Suddenly  he  halted  and  his  lips  parted  "n 
a  whispered  ejacilaiion  of  astonishment  and  horror 
He  was  young  then,  Dick  Kincaid,  but  the  .si-ht 
which  met  his  eyes  stayed  with  him  distinct  ii.  eve-y 
detail,  through  all  his  adventurous  life. 

Two  children,  boys  of  eleven  and  thirteen  or 
thereabouts,  were  roasting  a  ground  squirrel  in  the 
smouldering  embers  of  what  had  been  a  cabin  \ 
dead  baby  lay  on  a  ragged  soogan  near  a  partially 
dug  grave.  Cross-legged  on  the  ground  beside  it  was 
a  woman  wailmg  uncciusingly  :us  she  rocked  her  -a„at 
and  nearly  naked  body  to  and  fro.  The  eagerness  of 
tarnished  animals  gleamed  in  th'>  bovs'  eves  as  thev 


THE  "CANUCK" 


13 


tore  thp  haIf-eooko(i  squim-l  in  two,  yot  each  offerod 
his  shan-  to  his  mother,  who  seemed  not  to  see  the 
proffered  food. 

"Just  ;i  little  piece,  mother,"  coaxed  the  elder, 
and  he  extended  an  emaciated  arm  from  which  hung 
the  rags  of  a  tatteretl  shirt  sleeve. 

Roth  children  were  dressed  in  the  remnants  of 
copper-riveted  overalls  and  their  feet  were  bound 
m  strips  of  canvas  torn  from  a  "tarp."  Their 
straight  black  hair  Lung  over  faces  sunken  and 
sallow  and  from  the  waist  up  they  were  naked. 

The  boy  held  the  food  before  her  as  long  as  he 
could  endure  it,  then  he  tor.^  it  n\  ith  his  teeth  in  the 
ferocity  of  starvation. 

"Can  you  brnt  it!  Can  you  beat  that!"  Tho 
boys  did  not  hear  Kincaid's  shocked  exclamation. 

It  was  not  until  he  cleared  his  throat  a':d  called 
in  a  friendly,  reassuring  voice  that  they  learned  they 
were   not  alone.     Then  they  jumped   in   fright   and 
scurried  into  a  nearby  thicket  like  two  scared  rab- 
bits,  each  holding  tight  his  food.    But  Dick  Kincaid's 
face  was  one   to  inspire  confidence,  and  as  he  ap- 
,  "oached  they  came  forth  timidly.     Their  first  fright 
g{  -e  place  to  delirious;  joy.     The  smaller  threw  his 
ar  as  about  Kincaid's  long  ugs  and  hugged  them  in 
an  ecstasy  of  delight  while  the  elder  clung  to  his  hand 
as  though  afraid  he  might  vanish.    The  woman  merely 
glanced  at  him  with  vacant  eyes  and  went  on  wailin<r 
While  he  took  cold  biscuits  and  bacon  from  his 
pack  they  told  him  what  had  happen-d— briefly,  sim- 
ply.  without  the  smallest  attempt  to  color  the  storv 
for  his  sympathy. 

"  We  couldn't  have  hold  out  much  longer,  m'sieu 

we're  so  woak  ''     TVio  niri„«  k„ „_  .lu  .         ,  ' 

opuKesaiHii. 


14 


THE  LADY   D(X: 


"And   fho  strawlx.rries  and   sarvi.s-berries    won't   be 
r.p..  tor  a  lon^,  tin,.,  yet.      It  wasn't  .so  had  till  the 
c-al..n  burn,.,!.     W,.  could  la-.p  wann.     H„t  uv  w.-nt 
on  m  the  wood.s  to  see  if  we  could  kill  sonu-thin.^  an.l 
wl.en   we  came  back   the  cabin   was   burned   an.l   the 
I'Hby  dead.     Mothe,    went  era/.y  n.ore  than   a  month 
ajjo,   I  j;ue.s.s  it  was.     She  wouldn't   let  us   burv  the 
baby  till  yesterday,  and  when   we  started  to  dif?  we 
ou.ul  we  eouhl  only  di.^  a  little  at  a  time.     We  -^ot 
t.red  so  quick,  and  beside..,  we  had   to  try  and  keep 
a  lire,  for  we  have  no  more  matches." 

"i    couM    di!,'    lonf,'er   nor  you,"    chimed    in    the 
younger  boy   Ix.astfully.      The   other  .snuled   wanlv 

'I    know    u,    Pctie.    but   you    ha<l    more    to   oat. 
Vou  had  two  trout  and  a  bird  more  nor  me." 
^''Vou  have  a  pun,  then?  and  fi.sh-hooks ? " 
"Not  now.     We  lost  our  hooks  and  shot  our  .sh-ils 
away  ion.,  ago.    We  kill  thin.-s  with  rocks  but  it  takes 
muscle,  m  sieu,  to  throw  hard  enough.     The  dog  was 
starvin-  and  we  killed  and  ate  him.     We  couldn't  trv 
to  get  out  becau.se  mother  wouldn't  leave  and  she'll 
a  been  dead  before  we  got  back.     We  couldn't  have 
wallered  through  the  snow  anyhow.    We'd  never  have 
made  it  if  we'd  gone.     There  wasn't  anvthin-  to  do 
but  to  try  and  hang  on  till  spring;  then  we°  hoped 
somebody  would  come  down  like  you  have." 

The  boy  did  not  cry  as  he  told  the  storv  nor  did 
his  lip  so  much  as  quiver  at  the  recollectic.n  of  tiieir 
sufferings.  He  made  no  effort  to  describe  them,  but 
the  hollows  in  his  cheeks  and  the  dreadful  thinness 
of  his  arms  and  little  body  told  it  all  more  eloquentlv 
than  words. 

Kincaid  noticed  that  he  had  not  mentioned  his 
father  s  name,  so  he  asked  finallv : 


r 


!l 


THE  "CANUCK 


15 


Where's    your    father?      T 


"Whorp's    DuboiH? 
came  to  see  him." 

The  childish  face  hardened  instantly. 

-r  don't  know.  He  cleaned  up  the  sluico-bcTes 
late  la.st  fall  alter  the  first  freeze.  Mother  helped  hi.n 
olean  up.  He  got  a  lot  of  ^old-the  most  yet-and 
he  took  it  with  him  and  all  the  horses.  He  said  h- 
was  ffo.np:  out  for  grub  but  he  never  came  back.  Then 
the  b,g  snows  cun.e  in  the  m.mntains  and  we  knew  he 
coul.ln  t  get  in.  We  ate  our  bacon  up  first,  then  the 
flour  give  out,  and  the  beans.  The  baby  cried  aU 
the  time  cau.se  twas  hungr>-  and  Petie  and  me  wore 
our  shoes  out  huntin'  through  the  hills.  It  was 
awful,  m'sieu." 

Kincaid  swallowed  a  himp  in  his  throat 
"Do  you  think  he'll  come  back?"  the  younger  bov 
asked  eagerly.  •' 

"lie  might  have  stayed  outside  longer  than  he 
intended  and  found  he  couldn't  get  in  for  the  snow 
or  he  might  have  tried  and  froze  in  the  pass.     It's 
deep  there  yet,"  was  Kincaid's  evasive  reply 

«ln   /^''"   TT   '"  ''    ^^''''"   ^^'^^   the    older   boy 
slowly,  "and-he  wa.sn't  froze  in  the  pa.ss  " 

It  wa.s  still  May  when  Dick  Kincaid  climbed  out 
of  the  valley  with   the  whimpering  squaw  clinging 

Xl\  '" ?  1  'T  ^'^^'^  ^'^*'^  ^^^  -^^'-thy  little 
breeds  trudged  manfully  in  the  trail  close  to  his 
heels.  The  v.olets  still  made  purple  blotches  along 
the  bank  of  the  noisy  stream,  the  thorn  tr.es  and  the 
sennce-berry  bushes  were  still  like  fragrant  banks 
of  snow,  the  grass  in  the  valley  was  as  green  and  the 

stonned  T  ''''"'^''   ^'"^'^""^    ^'  ^'^^"   ^'^-^  ^^   ^^ad 


16 


'11  IK  LAUY  DOC 


Thoy  stopped  to  n>.st  an.l  lot  tho  horsos  prt  their 
beath  when  th.y  r.-ach.,  the  e.I.e  of  the  sn.tvs   and 

t:.h:::;.;:;^;!;:::;/'-;^^7'<i- u.;  J 

Klin  1...     1   .■  T-  ^'"^>'<l''r  boy  drew  his 

''""  ban.l  iron,  K.neai.r.s  hi,,  palm  and  touched  the 

^   ')<>  they  eost  mueh.  a  -uu  like  thi.s?  " 
Aot  niueh,  boy.     Why?" 

The  your.^'or  annvvered   for  him,   smilinif  at  the 
shrewdness  of  his  f,niess. 

he's'bij!'-"""     "'''  '"''"'  ''  ^""*   '■•''•  ^'^^hor  when 

^Jf^ir  '"'""  ""  ""■'^^'''•'■"^  '^"lile  "Pon  his  brother's 
ace,  the  .rav.ty  of  manhood  sat  stran^elv  x.non  ; 
a.s  he  answered  without  boastfulness  or  bit  ern  essb. 
rather  ,n  the  tone  of  one  who  .pea^s  of  ^d^^:'"' 

rn/et;ir::r".''^^^^'""^-^'^^-'-^^^-^-i<io 


II 


■4 

I 


ThK   Tfl'MOU   OK  TlIK    F.VTK   IiACIIKSIS 

"What  possihl.^  <'onn('<'tion,  howcv?r  remote,  this 
trafT.'dy  of  the  liittt-r  Root  Mountains  could '  have 
with  the  iuturc  of  Doctor  Kninia  Harp.%  who,  nearly 
twenty  years  l.ncr,  sat  at  a  pine  tabk'  in  a  forlorn 
Nebraska  tc.wii  liljinfr  o,it  a  death  ceitificate,  or  what 
part  it  .■oul.l  i)l;iy  m  ihe  lif,.  of  Es-sie  Tisdale,  the 
belle  of  the  si  ill  snialh-r  frontier  town  of  Crowheart, 
in  a  distant  Stat.',  who  at  the  niom.-nt  was  cleaning' 
her  white  slippers  with  «,'asoline,  only  the  Fate 
Laehesis  spinning,'  the  thread  of  human  life  from 
Clotho's  distair  could  foresee. 

When  Dr.  Ilarpe,  whose  finders  wore  cold  with 
nervousness,  made  tremulous  strokes  which  caused  the 
words  to  look  like  a  fi)rtrery.  the  utrly  Fate  fjaehesis 
frrinned,  and  -grinned  again  when  Essie  Tisdale,  many 
hundred  miles  away,  held  the  slipper  up  before  her 
and  dimpled  at  its  arched  smalluess;  then  Laehesis 
rearranged  her  threads. 

Dr.  Ilarpe  arose  \\hen  the  certificate  was  blotted 
and,  thrusting  her  hands  deep  in  the  pockets  of  her 
loose,  S(iuare-eut  coat,  made  a  tuni  or  two  the  length 
of  the  office,  walking  with  the  long  strides  of  a  man. 
Unexpectedly  her  pallid,  clear-cut  features  crumpled, 
the  strained  muscles  relaxed,  and  she  dronp"-!  into 
a  chair,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her  feet  wide  apart, 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  She  was  unfeminine 
even  in  her  tears. 

Alice  Freoff  was  dead!     Alice  Freoff  was  dead! 
Dr.  Ilarpe  was  still  numb  with  the  chilling  shnck  nf 
«  17 


18 


THE  LADY  DOC 


It.     She  had  not  expected  it.     Such  a  result  had  not 
entered  into  her  calculations— not  until  she  had  seen 
her  best  friend  slipping  into  the  other  world  had  she 
considered    it;    then    she   had    fought   frantically   to 
hold  her  back.     Her  efforts  had  been  useless  and  with 
a  frightful  cluti^hing  at  her  heart  she  had  watched  the 
woxV.an  sink.    Alexander  FreoiT  was  away  from  home. 
What  would  he  say  when  he  learned  that  his  wife 
had  died  of  an  operation  which  he  had  forbidden  Dr. 
Ilarpe  to  att<>mpt?     Fear  checked  the  tears  of  grief 
with  which  her  cheeks  were  wet.     lie  was  a  man  of 
violent  temper  and   he  had  not  liked   the   intimacy 
between  herself  and  his  ..ife.     He  did  not  like  her- 
Dr.  Emma  Ilarpe— and  now  that  Alice  was  dead  and 
the  fact  that  sht ,  as  a  physician,  had  blundered,  was 
too  obvious  to  be  denied,  the  situation  held  alarming 
possibiliticf;.      Consternation   replaced   her  grief  and 
the  tears  dried  on  ner  cneeks  while  again  she  paced 
the  floor. 

She   was   tired   almost   to   exhaustion    when   she 
stopped  suddenly  and  flung  her  shoulder  in  defiance 
and  self-disgust.     "Bah!    I'm  going  to  pieces  like  a 
Bchoolgirl.     I  must  pull  myself  together.     Twenty- 
four  hours  will   t€ll  the  tale  and   I  must  keep  my 
ner.-".     The  doctors  will— they  nuut  stand  by  me!"  " 
Dr.    IIan.e  was  correct  in  her  surmise  that  her 
suspense  would  be  short.     The  interview  between  her- 
self and  the  husband  of  her  dead  friend  was  one  she 
was  not  likely  to  forget.     Then  the  coroner,  himself 
a  physician,  sent  for  her  and  she  found  him'  waitin- 
at  his   desk.     All   the  fonner  friendliness  was  gone 
from  his  eyes  when  he  swung  in  his  office  chair  and 
looked  at  her. 

"It  will  not  be  necessary,  I  believe,  to  explain  why 


THE  FATE  LACHESIS 


19 


I  have  sent  for  yoii,  Dr.  Ilarpe."  His  cool,  imper- 
sonal voice  was  more  ominous,  more  final  than  anger, 
and  she  found  it  hard  to  preserve  her  elaborate 
assumption  of  ease. 

A   dull   red   mounted   slowly   to   her   cheeks   and 
faded,  leaving  them  a-shen. 

"Two  doors  are  open  to  you."  He  weighed  his 
words  carefully.  "If  you  remain  here,  suit  will  be 
brought  against  you  by  Alexander  Freoff;  and  since, 
In  this  ease,  you  have  acted  in  violation  of  all  recog- 
nized  methods  of  medical  science,  I  will  net  uphold 
you.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  immediate  action  will  be 
taken  by  the  State  Medical  Board,  of  which  1  am 
a  member,  to  disqualify  you.  If  you  leave  town 
within  twenty-four  hours  you  will  be  permitted  to  go 
unmolested.  This  concession  I  am  willing  to  make; 
not  for  your  sake  but  for  the  sake  of  the  profession 
which  you  have  disgraced.  You  have  my  ultimatum ; 
you  may  take  your  choice." 

She  gripped  the  arms   of  her  chair  hard,   silent 
from  an  inability  to  speak.     At  last  she  arose  uncer- 
tainly and  said  in  a  voice  which  was  barelv  audible- 
"I  will  go." 

And  so  it  happened  that  while  Dr.  Emma  Ilarpe 
was  saying  good-by  to  a  few  wondering  acquaintances 
who  accompanied  her  to  the  station,  Essie  Tisdale  was 
making  preparations  for  a  dance  which  was  an  event 
in  the  embryotic  metropolis  of  Crowheart,  several 
hundred  miles  away. 

Crowheart  was  booming  and  the  news  of  its  pros- 
perity had  spread.  Settlers  were  hurrjMng  toward  it 
from  the  :\Iiddle  West  to  take  up  homesteads  and 
desert  claims  in  the  surrounding  country.  There 
was  no  specific  reason  A'hy  the  town  should  boom,  but 


20 


THE  LADY  DOC 


it  (lid  boom  in  that  myst^'rious  fashion  which  far 
western  towns  have,  u})  to  a  certain  stage,  after  which 
the  reaction  sets  in. 

But  tliere  was  no  thought  of  reaction  now.  All 
was  life,  eagerness,  gaod-nature,  boundh^ss  belief  in  a 
great  iind  coming  prosperity.  The  Far  West  iuid  the 
Middle  AVest  greeted  each  other  with  cordial,  out- 
stretched hands  and  this  dance,  though  given  by  a 
single  individual,  was  in  the  nature  of  a  reception 
from  the  old  settlers  to  the  new  as  well  as  to  celebrate 
the  inception  of  an  undertaking  which  was  to  insure 
Crouhcart's  prosperity  for  all  tirne. 

Crowheart  was  platted  on  a  s;igebru.sh  "bencli" 
on  a  spur  of  a  branch  railroad.  The  snow-covered 
pctiks  of  a  lofty  range  rose  skyward  in  the  west.  To 
the  north  wa.s  the  solitary  bntte  from  which  the  town 
received  its  name.  To  the  south  was  a  line  of  dimpled 
foothills,  Avhiie  eastward  stretched  a  })arren  vista  of 
cactus,  sand,  and  sagebrush.  A  shallo\>'  stream  {lowed 
between  alkali-coated  bank's  on  two  sid(^s  of  the  town. 
In  the  spring  when  melting  mountain  snows  filled 
it  to  overflowing,  it  ran  swift  and  yellow;  l)ut  in  the 
late  fall  and  winter  it  dropped  to  an  inconsequential 
creek  of  clear  water,  hard  wifli  alkali.  The  inevitable 
"Main  Street"  was  wide  and  its  two  business  blocks 
consisted  of  one-story  buildings  of  log  and  luipainted 
pine  lumber.  There  was  the  inevitable  General  Mer- 
chandise Store  with  its  huge  sign  on  th;'  high  front. 
and  the  inevitable  newspaper  which  always  exists, 
like  the  faithful  at  prayer,  where  two  or  three  are 
grathered  together.  There  were  saloons  in  plenty 
with  irrelevant  and  picturesque  names,  a  dance  hall 
and  a  blacksmith  shop.  The  most  conspicuous  and  pre- 
tentious building  in   Crowheart  was  the   Terriberry 


I 


THE  FATE  LACHESIS 


21 


House,  bilious  in  color  and  Spartan  in  its  architec- 
ture, located  in  the  centre  of  iVIain  Street  on  a  corner. 
The  houses  as  yet  were  chieHy  tar-paper  shacks  or 
floored  and  partially  boarded  tents,  but  the  sound  of 
the  saw  and  the  hammer  was  heard  week-days  and 
Sundays  Sd  no  one  could  doubt  but  that  it  was  <mly 
a  qu(^sti(>n  ol'  time  when  Crowheart  would  bi^  comfort- 
ably housed.  Tln'r*'  was  nothinsr  distinctive  about 
Crowheart ;  it  had  its  prototype  in  a  thousand  towns 
betwerti  Peace  Rivt^r  and  the  I\io  (irande:  it  was  typi- 
cal of  the  settlements  which  are  sprin<;inf;c  up  every 
vear  alnntr  the  lines  of  those  railn^ads  that  are  stretch- 
mff  their  ti'utacles  over  the  Far  West.  Yet  the  hopes 
of  Crowheart  expressed  themselves  in  boulevards  out- 
lined with  new  stakes  and  in  a  park  which  should, 
some  day,  be  a  breathinj::  spot  for  a  jireat  city.  Tt 
was  Crowheart 's  last  thought  that  it  should  remain 
stationary  and  obscure. 

To  Dr.  ITarpe  swinging  down  from  the  high  step 
of  the  single  passenger  coach  in  the  mixed  train  of 
coal  and  cattle  care,  it  looked  like  a  highly  colored 
picture  on  a  drop-curtain.  The  etfeet  was  impression- 
istic and  bizarre  as  it  lay  in  the  gorgeous  light  of  the 
setting  sun,  yet  it  pleased  and  rested  the  eye  of  the 
woman  wliose  thoughts  had  not  been  conducive  to 
an  appreciation  of  scenery  during  the  journey  past. 

As  she  drew  a  deep  breath  of  the  thin,  stimulating 
air,  the  t  'usion  lessened  on  her  strained  nerves.  She 
looked  l)a<k  at  the  interminable  miles  over  which  she 
had  come,  the  miles  which  lay  between  her  and  the 
nightmare  of  disgrace  axul  failure  she  had  left,  and 
then  at  the  new,  untried  field  before  her.  The  light 
of  new  hop(>  shone  in  her  handsome  hazel  eyes,  and 
there  was  fresh  life  in  her  step  as  she  picked  up  her 


22 


THE  I.ADV  DOC 


.suitcase  and  started  across  the  railroad  track  toward 
the  town. 

"Kninia  Ilarpc.  ...  St.  Louis,"  she  wrote 
holdly  upon  the  bethumbed  register  oi'  tlie  Tcrriberry 
House. 

The  hiunfjers  in  the  office  studid  her  sifrnature 
earne.slly  but  it  told  them  nothing  of  that  which  they 
most  wished  to  know — her  business.  She  might  be 
selliuL'  b()((ks  upon  tlie  instalment  i)lan :  she  might 
be  jx'ddling  skin-food  warranted  to  nstore  their 
weather-beaten  complexions  to  the  texture  of  a 
baby's:  she  might  be  a  new  inmate  for  the  dance 
hall.     Anything  was  ])ossible  in  Crowheart. 

She  w;us  the  object  of  interested  glances  as  she 
fiti'  her  supper  in  t'^c  long  dining-room  for,  although 
she  was  nearly  v-,  there  was  .still  something  of 

girlhood  in  her  .irec!  face.  But  she  seemed  en- 
grossed in  her  own  thoughts  and  returned  to  her 
room  as  soon  as  she  had  eaten.  There  she  lay  (lown 
upcm  the  i)atehwork  quilt  which  covered  her  bed,  with 
her  hands  clasped  above  her  head,  staring  at  the  ceil- 
ing and  trying  to  forget  the  pa.st  in  conjecturing  the 
future. 

The  clatter  of  dishes  ceased  after  a  time  and  with 
the  darkness  came  the  sound  of  many  voices  in  the 
hall  below.  There  was  laughter  and  much  scurrying 
to  and  fro.  Then  she  heard  the  explanatory  tuning 
of  a  violin  and  fiiuilly  a  loud  and  masterful  voice 
urging  the  selection  of  partners  for  a  quadrille. 
Whoops  of  exuberance,  shrill  feminine  laughter,  and 
jocose  personalities  shouted  across  the  rooju  followed. 
Then,  simultaneous  Vvith  a  burst  of  music,  the  scuf- 
fling of  sliding  soles  and  stamping  heels  told  her  that 
the  dance  was  on. 


THE  FATE  LACHESIS 


23 


The  jubilant  shriek  of  the  violin,  the  lively  twang 
of  a  guitar,  the  "boom!  boom"  of  a  drum  marking 
time,  the  stentorian  voice  of  the  master  of  ceremonies, 
reached  her  plainly  as  she  lay  staring  at  the  stars 
throu^'li  the  single  window  of  her  room.  She  liked 
the  sounds ;  they  were  cheerful ;  they  helped  to  shut 
out  the  dying  face  of  Alice  Freolf  and  to  dull  the 
pitiless  voice  of  the  coroner.  She  found  herself  keep- 
ing time  with  her  foot  to  the  music  below. 

An  hour  passed  with  no  diminution  of  the  hilarity 
downstairs  and  having  no  desire  to  sleep  she  still 
lay  with  her  lamp  unlighted.  While  she  listened  her 
ear  caught  a  sound  which  had  no  part  in  the  gayety 
below.  It  came  faintly  at  first,  then  louder  as  a 
smothered  sob  became  a  sharp  ii,i.ake  of  breath. 

Dr.  Harpe  sat  up  and  listened  intently.  The 
sound  wa-s  close,  apparently  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
She  AAa.s  not  mistaken,  a  woman  was  crying — so  she 
opened  the  door. 

A  crouching  figure  on  the  top  step  shrank  farther 
into  the  shadow. 

"Is  that  you  crj'ing?  " 

Another  sob  was  the  answer. 

"What  ails  you?     Come  in  here." 

WTiile  she  struck  a  match  to  light  the  lamp  the 
girl  obe\ed  mechanically. 

Dr.  Ilarpe  shoved  a  chair  toward  her  with  her 
foot. 

"Now  what's  the  trouble?"  she  demanded  half 
humorously.  "Arc  you  a  wall-flower  or  is  your  beau 
dancing  with  another  girl?" 

There  was  a  rush  of  tears  whi^h  the  girl  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  to  hide. 

"Huh— I  hit  it,  did  I?" 


S4 


THI<:  LADV  DOC 


While  she  wi-pt  softly.  Dr.  11a n>-^  inmp(M'to(l  hor 
with  deliboration.  Sht'  \va.s  tall  and  awkward,  with 
loii^'.  flat  tV(>t,  and  a  wide  fac(>  with  Iuk'!.  check  hones 
that  was  Scandinavian  in  its  type.  Her  slraiuht  hair 
was  the  dral)  shade  which  tlaxcn  hair  Ix'conies  before 
it  darkens,  and  her  lar;,'c.  mouth  had  a  solenni,  unsmil- 
ing' droop.  Her  best  feature  was  h«"r  brown,  mchui- 
choly,  irnairinative  eyes.  She  hxtkcd  like  the  Amcri- 
ean-])orn  dautrhter  of  Swedish  or  Xorwe<:iaii  cini- 
j.'rant.s  and  her  larfre-knucklcd  hands,  too.  bespoke  the 
peasant  strain. 

'■Quit  it.  Niob(\  and  tell  me  your  name," 

The  ^di'l  raised  her  tearful  eyes. 

"Kunkel— Augusta  Knnkel." 

"Oh.  tJerman?" 

The   trirl   nodded. 

'■"Well.  .Miss  Kunkel" — she  suppressed  a  smile — 
"tell  me  your  troubles  and  perhaps  you'll  feel 
better." 

^lore  tears  was  the  <rirl 's  reply. 

"Look  here" — there  was  impatience  in  her  voice — 
"there's  no  man  worth  ])aw]int,'  over." 

"But— but "    wept    lhe    -rirl,    "lie    said    he'd 

marry  me  I" 

"Isn't  he  ooinn-  to?" 

"I  don't  know — ^he's  frointr  away  in  a  few  days 
and  lie  woti't  talk  any  more  about  it.  lie's  waltzed 
e^-ery  waltz  to-ni<rht  with  Essie  Tisdale  and  has  not 
danced  once  with  me." 

"So?    And  who's  Essie  Tisdale?" 

"She's  the  waitress  here." 

"Down.stairs?    In  this  hotel?" 

Ancrnsta  Knnkel  nodded. 

"I  don't  ])l;.nie  him."  Dr.  Ilarpe  replied  bluntlv. 
"I  saw  her  at  supper.     She's  a  peach!" 


THE  FATE  LACIIESIS 


25 


"Shos  tlu'  bflle  of  Crowheart,"  admitted  the  girl 
reluctantly. 

"And  who  is  h<  ?     Whafs  hh  name?" 
The   frirl    hesitated    l)ut    as   though   yielding   to   a 
sfi'onpT  will  than  her  own,  she  wliiinpered: 
"Symos — Andy  P.  Symes." 

''Why  don't  you  let  Andy  V.  Kynics  <ro  if  he 
wants  t(^?  He  isn't  the  only  man  in  (Vowheart,  is 
he?" 

"Rut  lie  promised!"  The  cirl  wrunir  h-'r  hands 
convulsively,     "lie  ]iromised  >iuir!" 

A  look  of  ([uiek  suspicion  flashed  atjross  Dr. 
Harpe's  face. 

"  lie  promlKcd^^h,  I  arc  I" 
She  arose  iind  closed  the  door. 

The  interview  wa.s  interrupted  by  a  bonndina  step 
upon  the  stairs  and  a  little  tap  upon  the  door,  and 
when  it  wa.s  oi)ened  the  belle  of  Crowheart  stood 
flushed  and  radinnt  on  the  threshold. 

"We  wanl  you  to  come  down,"  she  snid  in  hxT 
vivacious,  friendly  voice.  "Tt  must  be  lonely  for 
you  up  here,  and  Mr.  Symes — he's  j,'ivin<:^  the  dnnce, 
you  know — he  sent  m-  U]i  to  ask  you."  She  caucht 
si^dit  of  tb<'  irirl's  tear-stjiined  face  and  stepped 
quickly  into  the  room.  "Why,  Gussie."  She  laid 
her  arm  about  her  shoulder.  "What's  the  matter?" 
Aujrusta  Kunkcl  drew  away  with  frank  hostility 
in  her  brown  eyes  and  answered: 

"Nothing's  the  matter— I'm  tired,  that's  all." 
Though  she  flushed  at  the  rebuff,  she  murnuired 
gently:  "I'm  sorry,  Gussie.''    Turning  to  Dr.  Ilarpe, 
she  urged  persuasively: 

"Please  come  down.     We're  having  the  best  time 

«  *  * 

Dr.    Ilarpe   hesitated,    for   .she   thought    of   Alice 


«6 


THE  LADY  DOC 


FreofT,  but  the  violin  was  shriekinf^  enticinj,'ly  and  the 
voice  of  the  master  of  ceremonies  in  alluriuj,'  command 
floated  up  the  stairway: 

"Choose  your  partners  for  a  waltz,  gents!" 
She  jerked  her  head  at  Auprusta  Kunkd. 
"Come  alonj?— don't  sit  up  here  and  mope." 
Andy  P.  Symes,  waiting  in  the  hall  below,  was  a 
little   puzzled   by   the   intentness  of   the   newcomer's 
gaze  as  she  descended  the  stairs,  but  at  the  bottom 
he  extended  a  huge  hand: 

"I'm  glad  you  dec'  .  1  to  join  us.  Miss " 

"Ilarpe— Doctor  Emma  Tlarpe." 
"Oh,"    surprised    amusement    was    in    his    tone, 
"you've  come  to  settle  among  us,  perhaps?     Permit 
me  to  welcome  you.  Dr.  Ilarpe.     We  are  to  be  con- 
gratulated.      Our    nearest    i)hysician    is    sixtv    miles 
away,  so  you   will  have  the  field  to  yourself.     You 
should  prosptT.    Do  you  come  from  the  East?" 
She  looked  him  in  tne  eyes. 
"St.  Louis." 

"Take  your  pardners  for  the  waltz,  gents!" 
Andy  P.  S%-mes  held  out  his  arms  in  smiling  invi- 
tation  while  the  news  flashed  round  the  room  that 
the  newcomer  with  the  cold,  immobile  face,  the  pecu- 
liar pallor  of  which  contrasted  strongly  with  their 
own  sun-blistered  skins,  was  a  "lady-doctor"  who  had 
come  to  live  in  Crowheart. 

The  abandon,  the  freedom  of  it  all,  app'^aled 
strongly  to  Dr.  Ilarpe.  The  atmosphere  wa.s  con- 
genial, and  when  the  waltz  was  done  she  asked  that 
she  might  be  allowed  to  sit  quietly  for  a  time  since 
she  found  herself  more  fat'gued  by  her  long  journey 
than  she  had  realized;  but,  in  truth,  she  desired  to 
familiarize  herself  with  the  character  of  the  npnnle 
among  whom  her  future  work  lay. 


THE  FATE  LACHESIS 


27 


A  noisy,  ht'toro^'oiu'oiis  f^athcriri'^'  it  was,  hoistor- 
ous  without  vul^'arity,  free  without  familiarity. 
There  were  uo  eovert  glances  of  di.slii\e  or  envy, 
no  shrugs  of  disdain,  uo  whispered  iiniucndocs.  Th(! 
social  lines  which  l)recd  these;  things  did  not  exist. 
Every  man  eonsi(k'red  his  neighl)or  an<l  his  ncighhor's 
wife  as  good  as  himself  and  his  genuine  liking  was 
in  his  frank  glance,  liLs  hearty  tones,  his  h(>aining, 
friendly  smile.  Men  and  women  looked  at  each  other 
clear-eyed  and  straight. 

The  piercing  "yips"  of  eowhoys  meant  nothing 
hut  an  excess  of  spirits.  The  stamping  of  feet,  the 
shouts  and  laughter  were  indicative  onlv  of  efferves- 
cent youth  seeking  an  outlet.  Most  were  young,  all 
were  full  of  life  and  hope,  and  the  world  was  far 
away,  that  world  where  clothes  and  money  matter. 

The  sc-ene  was  typical  of  a  new  town  in  the  fron- 
tier West.  The  old  settlers  and  the  new  mingled  gaily. 
The  old  timers  with  their  indifferent  dress,  their  ver- 
nacular and  free  manners  of  the  mountains  and 
ranges  hrushed  elbows  with  the  more  modern  folk 
of  the  poor  and  the  middle  cla.ss  of  the  ^liddle  West. 
They  were  uninteresting  and  mediocre,  these  new- 
comers, yet  the  sort  who  thrive  astonishingly  upon 
new  soil,  who  become  prosperous  and  self-important 
in  an  atmosphere  of  e(iuality.  There  were,  too,  edu- 
cated failures  from  the  East  and — people  who  had 
blundered.  But  all  alike  to-night,  irrespective  of  pasts 
or  presents  or  futures,  were  bent  upon  enjoying  them- 
selves to  tiieir  capacities. 

Callous-handed  ranchers  and  their  faded  wives 
promenaded  arm  in  arm.  Sheep-herders  and  cow- 
punehers  p;ussed   in  the  figures  of  the  dance  eyeing 


TV-..-. 


me-downs"    of   grocery   clerks   contrasted    with   the 


S8 


Tin:  r,.\i)v  doc 


copper-rivotod  overalls  of  shy  and  silont  prospectors 
from  the  liills  who  stood  iij^aiiist   the   walls  envying 
tht'ir  dappiT  ease.     A   n-iiiittance  man    Ironi    Devon- 
shire whose  ani'estral  halls  had  sheltered  an  hiiiidrrd 
kni.irhts  (hiri('e(l  with   Faro  Xfll.   who  ".Mniblcd    for  a 
liviniT.  while  the  stiitiori   au'riit  "s  ntteiiualed  daiii,'hter 
j)a!pitatiMl  in   the  iii'iiis  of  a  husky  stairc-drivcr.      Mi\ 
Percy  I'arrott,  the  spri>r!itly  eashicr  of  th.'  new  hank, 
swnnt;  the   new   milliner    from    South    Dakota.      Syl- 
vanns  St;ii'r,  th.-  Lriftcd  rditoi'  of  tln'  Crowhcart  Coiir- 
ii  r,  scliottischcd  with  Mi's.  "Hank"  'Pt'i'rihcrry.  wliiU^ 
his  no  less  L^ifted  wife  swayed  in  the  arms  of  the  local 
barhci-.  and  his  two  lovely  danuhters,  "i'earline"  and 
"Planehette.''  tripped  it  resiK>etively  with  the  "bar- 
keei)""of  the  White  Kleiihiint  Saloon  and  a  .Minneapo- 
lis  sh(te-drnmmer.     In  the  centre  of  the  lloor  tlie  new 
plasterer  and  liis  wife  moved  throuLdi  the  li<,mres  of 
the  French  minuet  with  the  slilf-kneed  graee  of  two 
self-eonseious   piraires.   while    Mrs.    Perey   Parrott,   a 
lon^-dimhed  lady  with  a  hiu',  white,  Ilereforddike  face, 
capered  with  "Tinhorn  Frank,"  the  oily,  dark,  craft- 
ily observant  proprietor  of  the  "Walla  Walla  Restau- 
rant and  Saloon.  ■■     .Mr.  Ahe  Tutts,  of  the  Flour  and 
Feed  Store,  skimmed  the  tioor  with  the  dartin,i:r  case 
of  a  water-spider  drairi,nni,'  beside  him   his   far  less 
active    wife,    a    belliycrent-appearin-,'    and   somewhat 
hard-featun^l  lady  several  years  his  senior. 

But  the  louL'.  crowded  diiiing-room  held  two  cen- 
tral figures,  one  of  which  was  Andy  P.  Symes,  and 
the  other  was  E.ssie  Tisdale,  the  little  waitres.s  of  the 
Terriberry  House  and  the  belle  of  Crowluvirt. 

Symes  moved  among  his  guests  with  the  air  of  a 

man  who  found  amusement  in  mingling  with  those 
I.-    1 II.'     -f*    •  »'»,  '     ,.,,. 

ill:    u:;:;;;;;    ;;;:■;    iiiicnors   i-vr-ii    wroic    pciLt-niiv    i)ni(iliig 

for  their  admiration  and  regard.     His  height  and 


TIIK  FATE  LACUKSIS 


29 


breadth  of  shoulder  iiiatle  him  eonspieuor.s  even  in 
this  <:atlierin<j  of  tall  men.  His  finely  shaped  heail 
was  well  set  but  in  contrast  his  utterly  in('()nse(iuen- 
tial  nose  came  as  something  of  a  shock.  His  face  was 
Horid  and  irenial  and  he  had  a  wonl  I'or  the  most 
obsc'ire. 

Yet  the  trained  and  sensitive  observer  would  have 
felt  ciipabilitit's  for  boorishness  beneath  his  amia- 
bility, a  lack  of  sincerity  in  his  impartial  and  too 
fnlsome  compliments.  His  manner  denoted  a  deforce 
of  social  traininir  an<I  a  knowledjre  of  social  fonns 
acfpiircd  in  another  than  his  present  cnviroiuncut, 
but  he  was  too  fond  of  the  limelijrht — it  cheapened 
him;  too  broad  in  his  attintions  to  women — it  coar- 
sened him;  his  waistcoat  was  the  din<ry  waistcoat  of  a 
man  of  careless  habits;  his  linen  wa.s  not  too  itnmacu- 
late  and  the  nails  of  his  1)1  unt  fincrers  showed  lack 
of  attention.  He  wa.s  the  sort  of  man  who  is  nearly, 
but  not  rpiite,  a  pentleman. 

The  slim  little  belle  of  Crowheart  seemed  to  be 
everywhere,  her  youthful  spirits  were  untlajruinf;.  and 
her  contap:ious,  merry  laugh  rant,'  out  constantly  from 
the  centre  of  lively  pri'oups.  Her  features  were  deli- 
cate and  there  was  pride,  sensitiveness  and  good- 
breeding  in  her  mouth  with  its  short,  red  upper  lip. 
Her  face  held  more  than  prettiness,  for  there  was 
thoughtfulncss,  as  Avell,  in  her  blue  eyes  and  imiate 
kindness  in  its  entire  expression.  Her  light  brown 
hair  was  soft  and  plentiful  and  added  to  her  stature 
by  its  high  dressing.  She  was  natural  of  manner  and 
graceful  with  the  ease  of  happy  youth  and  her  flushed 
cheeks  were  pinker  than  her  simjde  gown.  She  looked 
farther  removed  from  her  occupation  than  any  woman 
in  the  room  and  to  JJr.  Harpe,  following  her  with  hex' 
eyes,  the  connection  seemed  incongruous. 


80 


Tin:   LADY    UOC 


"Mosi's!"  she  whisper.-!  to  li.i-H.-lf,  "hut  that  little 
biscuit-slioolcr  would  he  u  uiiiri.-r  if  she  had  '•lothcs.'' 

Other  ryes  than  Dr.  llarpc's  vveit  t"()ll(i\vin<^  lassie 
Tischile  and  with  an  intent ness  whieh  finally  attracted 
her  attention.  She  stopped  as  she  was  |)assin^  a 
swarthy,  silent  man  in  tho  eorner,  who  had  not  iuov<mI 
from  his  ehair  siriee  the  lie<,'inni(if»  of  the  danee,  and, 
arching,'  her  eyehrows,  she  asked  niisehiovously: 

"Don't  you  mean  to  ask  me  I'or  u  siii^de  dance, 
.Mr.   Dubois     not  one?" 

To  her  snr[)rise  and  the  amusement  of  all  -vho 
hoard,  he  arose  at  onee,  IxMiding  his  siprit  figure  iu  aa 
awkward  l)o\' ,  and  replied: 

"Certainly,  m'amselle,  if  you  will  j^'ive  mo  that 
pleasure." 

And  all  the  roomful  .stared  in  minjrled  astonish- 
ment and  <;lee  when  old  Kdouard  Dubois,  the  taciturn 
and  littlediked  .sheepman  from  the  "Lime.stone  Kim," 
led  E.ssie  Tisdalo  out  upon  the  floor  to  complete  a  set. 

The  eveninj,'  wa-s  well  alou','  when  Dr.  Harpe  laid 
her  hand  udou  the  unpainted  railii'f,'  whieh  served  as 
a  bannister  and  turned  lo  look  on  more  at  the  room- 
ful of  hot,  ecstatically  luippy  dancers  before  she  went 
upstairs. 

"Harpe,"  she  murmured,  and  her  eyes  narrowed, 
"Ilarpe,  we're  .iroing  to  make  good  here.  We're  go- 
ing to  win  out.  We're  going  to  make  money  hand 
over  fist." 

And  even  with  her  own  boastful  words  there 
came  a  Pi.ng  which  had  its  :,ource  in  a  knowledge 
her  dance  with  Symes  had  brought  her.  Something 
was  dead  within  her!  That  something  was  the  spirit 
of  youth,  and  with  it  had  gone  the  best  of  Emma 
Ilarpe. 


nr 

A    Mk«ai-i,iance 

CROwrTEART  was  surpri.s<'(i  but  not  shf.okod  when 
the  ('iitrJWiiHT.t  of  Andy  P.  Synus  to  the  blacksmith "s 
Histcr  w.'w  annoiuu'cd.  It  saw  no  iiiesallianci'  in  thi- 
laiion.  It  was  iiurcly  uiiu\  are  that  ho  hud  bt';'n 
attriitivc  to  Aiifjriis'u  KiiiiUcI.  Now  they  were  to  \u^ 
man'ii'd  in  the  loii>r  diniiij^-rooin  of  the  Terribcrry 
House  and  take  the  iiij,'ht  train  lor  C'hicapo  on  their 
honeymoon. 

Dr.  llarpo  stamliniij  at  the  window  of  her  new 
(ilTiee  on  the  :jecond  floor  of  tlie  hotel  smiled  to  herseli! 
as  she  saw  the  chairs  Roinp:  inside  which  served  ecjually 
V  ell  for  funerals  or  for  social  fuuctions.  The  match, 
she  felt,  was  really  of  her  makincf. 

"You've  got  to  do  it,"  she  haci  told  him.  "You've 
simply  got  to  do  it." 

He  had  come  to  see  her  at  Aupusta's  insistence. 

"But!"  he  had  <?roaned ;  "a  Kunkcl !  Perhaps 
you  don't  knf)w — but  I'm  one  of  the  Symes  of  Maine, 
fireat-prandfather  a  personal  friend  of  Alexander 
Hamilton's,  and  all  that.  My  family  don't  expect 
yniick  of  me  since  I'm  the  black  sheep,  but,"  a  dull 
red  had  surged  over  his  face,  "they  expect  something 
better  of  me  than  a  Kunkel!" 

She  had  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Suit  yourself,  I'm  only  telling  you  how  it  looks 
to  me.  You'll  queer  yourself  forever  if  you  don't 
marrj'  her.  for  this  country  is  still  western  enough  to 
respect  women.  You  are  just  starting  in  to  promote 
this  irr!i?a^iot!  nroiect  9.'.\(l  if  von  sncee^^'d  von  c^n't 

SI 


m 

'*^&. 


ds 


THE  I.ADY  DOC 


tell  what  the  futun!  will  hold  for  you  politically;  this 
is  just  the  sort  of  thinj?  to  bob  up  and  down  you. 
You  know  I'm  risxht. " 

"But  sh(>  looks  so  obviously  what  slic  is."  he  had 
frroancd  niiscral)ly.  "Some  day  I  may  want  to  fjo 
home — and  think  of  introdueinj;  Auu'usta  Kunkel!" 

"You  are  wroncr  there,"  she  bad  repii<>d  with 
conviotioii,  "AuLTUsta  has  i^ossibilities.  She  has  srood 
eyes,  her  voice  is  low,  her  p:ii<;lish  is  far  better  than 
yen  miuht  exi)ect,  and,  ])est  of  all,  she's  tall  and 
slender.  If  she  was  short  and  fat  I'd  call  her  rather 
hopeless,  but  you  hauf,'  irood  clothes  on  these  slim 
ones  and  it  works  wonders.  Besides,  she's  imitative 
as  a  parrot.' 

lie  had  thrown  his  arms  aloft  in  despair. 

"But  think  of  it!— the  rest  of  my  Jite— with  a 
parrot." 

"It's  the  lesser  of  two  evils,"  she  had  uri?C(1,  and 
in  the  end  h(>  had  said  dully: 

"I  jruess  you're  ri^rht,  Dr.  Ilarpe.  Your  advice 
no  doubt  is  good,  though,  like  your  medicin(>,  a  bitter 
dose  just  now.  You've  done  me  a  favor,  I  suppose, 
and  I'll  not  forget  it." 

When  the  door  of  h(^r  office  had  closed  upon  his 
broad  bn -k  .she  had  said  to  hei-self : 

"I'll  -ee  that  you  don't  forget  it."  And  she  re- 
peated it  again  with  renewed  satisfaction.  She  liked 
the  feeling  that  she  already  bad  become  a  factor  in 
the  affairs  of  Crowheart  and  she  intended  to  remain 
one. 

The  practice  of  medicine  with  Dr.  Tlarpe  vva3 
frankly  for  personal  gain.  No  ideals  had  influenced 
her  in  the  choice  of  her  profession  and  her  practice 
of  it  had  developed  no  ambition  save  the  single  one 


A  MESALLIANCE 


33 


of  buildintr  up  a  bank  account.  The  ethical  distinc- 
tion between  the  tri'.de.s  and  i)rot'ession.s.  whieli  is  based 
upon  the  fact  that  the  professional  man  or  woman  id 
supposed  to  tai^e  u^)  his  or  her  life  work  primarily 
because  he  loves  both  his  profession  and  the  i)eople 
whom  it  may  benefit,  was  a  distinction  which  she 
never  h.id  <,'nisped.  She  practised  medicine  in  the 
same  c(mimercial  spirit  that  a  cheap  drummer  builds 
up  a  trade.  She  had  no  sentiment  regardini^  it,  none 
of  the  ambitious  dreams  of  high  professional  standinjj 
attained  by  meritorious  work  which  inspire  those  who 
achieve.  It  was  a  business  pure  and  simple;  each 
patient  was  a  customer. 

Another  consideration  in  her  choice  of  this  pro- 
fession was  the  freedom  it  t?ave  her.  Because  of  it 
she  was  exempt  from  many  of  the  restrictions  and 
conventionalities  which  hampered  her  sex,  and  above 
all  -^Ise  she  disliked  restraint. 

She  was  the  single  result  of  a  "typhoid  romance." 
Her  mother,  a  trained  nurse,  had  attended  a  St.  Louis 
politician  during  a  long  illness.  Upon  his  recovery 
he  married  his  nurse  and  as  promptly  deserted  her, 
providing  a  modest  support  for  the  child.  She  had 
grown  to  womanhood  in  a  cheap  boarding  school, 
attaining  thereby  a  superficial  education  but  sufficient 
to  enable  hei-  to  pa.ss  the  preliminary  examinations 
necessary  to  begin  h(>r  studies  in  the  medical  college 
which  was  an  outcast  among  its  kind  and  known 
among  the  profession  as  a  "diploma  mill."  She 
selected  it  because  th'»  course  was  e;isy  and  the  tuition 
ligh^,  though  its  equipment  was  a  farce  and  its  labora- 
tory too  meagre  to  deserve  the  name;  one  of  the 
commercial  medical  colleges  turning  out  each  year 
by  the  hundreds,  for  a  xew  dollars,  illiterate  gradu- 


34 


THE  LADY  DOC 


ates,  totally  unfitted  by  temperament  and  education 
for  a  profession  that  calls  for  the  hij^'hest  and  best, 
sending  them  out  in  hordes  like  lieei  d  murderers 
to  prescribe  and  operate  among  the  trusting  and  the 
ignorant. 

Dr.  Ilarpe  had  framed  her  sheep-skin  and  been 
duly  photographed  in  her  cap  and  gown;  then,  after 
a  short  hospital  experience,  she  had  gone  to  the  little 
Nebraska  town  where  perhaps  the  most  forceful 
comment  upon  the  success  of  her  career  there  was  that 
the  small  steamer  trunk,  which  she  was  now  opening, 
contained  very  comfortably  both  her  summer  and 
winter  wardrobe. 

Iler  pose  was  an  air  of  camaraderie,  of  blunt  good- 
nature. Her  conspicuous  walk  was  a  swaggering 
stride,  while  in  dre.ss  she  affected  the  mjusculine 
severity  of  some  professional  women.  Her  hair  was 
the  dull  red  that  is  nearly  brown  and  she  wore  it 
coiled  in  trying  simplicity  at  the  back  of  her  head. 
Her  handsome  eyes  were  the  hazel  that  is  alternately 
brown  and  green  and  gray,  sometimes  an  odd  mixture 
of  all  three.  Ordinarily  there  was  a  suspicion  of 
hardness  in  her  face  but  there  was  also  upon  occa- 
sions a  kind  of  vrinsomeness,  an  unexpected  peeping 
out  of  a  personality  which  was  like  the  -vraith  of  the 
child  which  she  once  had  been— a  .suggestion  of  girlish 
charm  and  spontaneity  utterly  unlike  her  usual  self. 

This  attractive  pha.se  of  her  pei-sonality  was 
uppermost  as  she  sought  in  the  trunk  for  something 
to  wear,  and  a  smile  curved  the  corners  of  her  straight 
lips  and  brmight  out  a  faint  cleft  in  her  square  chin, 
as  she  inspected  its  contents. 

«he  found  what  she  wanted  in  a  plain  cloth  skirt 
and  a  white  tailored  waist  with  stiffly  starched  cuffs. 


A  MESALLIANCE 


35 


and  a  man's  sloove  link?  vVhcn  she  was  dressed  a 
mans  linen  waistcoat  with  a  black  silk  watch-fob 
han^'inf,'  from  the  pocket  added  further  lo  the  unfem- 
inine  tout  ensemble.  She  liked  the  etfect.  and,  as 
she  thrust  a  s-arf-pin  in  the  long  black  "four-in- 
hand"  before  her  mirror,  she  viewed  the  result  with 
satisfaction. 

Dr.  Harpe  regarded  the  wedding  a.s  exceedingly 
opportune  for  herself,  bringing  in  as  it  did  the  set- 
tlers from  the  isolated  ranches  and  outlying  districts 
of  the  big  county,  and  she  meant  it  to  serve  as  her  real 
debut  in  the  connnunity. 

It  was  in  fact  a  notable  event  for  the  reason  that 
It  was  the  first  wedding  in  Crowheart,  and,  since  the 
invitation  was  general,  the  guests  were  coming  from 
far  and  near  to  show  their  approval  and  incidentally 
perhaps  to  partake  of  the  champagne  which  it  was 
rumored  was  to  flow  like  water.    Champagne  was  the 
standanl  !,y  which  Crowheart  gauged  the  success  of 
an  entertainment  and  certainly  Andy  P.  Symes  was 
not  the  man  to  serve  sarsap-r,lia  at  his  own  wedding. 
When  Dr.  nai-p(!  ,.;,me  uownstairs  she  found  the 
long  dining-room  cleared  of  its  tables  and  already 
well    filled    with    guests.      "Curly"   the    camp    cook 
was  caressing  his  violin,  and  "Snake  River  Jim" 
tr)lerably  drunk,   was  in  his  place  beside  him,   while 
Ole  Peterson,  redolent  of  the  liverv-stable  in  which 
he  worked,  constantly  felt  his  muscle  to  show  that 
he  was  prepared  to  do  his  share  with  the  bi-  bass 
drum.  ° 

As  Andy  P.  Symes  moved  through  the  rapidly 
growing  crowd  no  one  but  Dr.  Harpe  guessed  that  he 
winced  uiwardly  at  the  resounding  slaps  upon  his 
back  and  the  congratulations  or  that  his  heart  all 


36 


THE  LADY  DOC 


but  failed  him  wlu'ii  he  s;i  his  bride-to-be  in  her 
bobir  .il,  ji  flush  iipou  her  broad   fixa    and   I'ol- 

lowii  .lis  every  movement  with  adoring  eyes.  To  all 
but  Dr.  Ilarpe  he  looked  the  fortunate  and  beaming 
bridegrofim  and  only  she  saw  the  tiny  lines  which 
sleeplessness  had  left  about  his  eyes  or  detected  the 
hoUowness  of  his   frequent  laughter. 

It  was  more  or  less  of  a  relief  to  all  when  the 
eeremony  was  over  and  the  nervous  and  porspiring 
Justice  of  the  Peace,  miserable  in  a  collar,  had 
wished  them  every  known  joy.  It  was  a  relief  to 
Symes  who  kissed  his  bride  perfunctorily  and  re- 
turned her  to  we.ping  "Grandmother"  Kunkel's 
arms— a  relief  fo  those  impatient  to  dance — a  relief  to 
the  thirsty  whose  surreptitious  glances  wandered  in 
spite  of  their  best  efforts  toward  the  pile  of  cham- 
pagne cases  in  the  corner. 

But  the  reward  of  patience  came  to  all.  and  as  the 
viob"n  and  guitar  timed  up  the  pt^pping  of  corks  was 
assurance  enough  that  the  unsurpassed  thirst  created 
by  alkali  dust  would  shortly  be  assuaged.  "Hank" 
Terriberry.  in  whose  competent  charge  Symes  had 
placed  this  portion  of  the  wedding  entertainment, 
realizing  that,  at  best,  pouring  from  a  bottle  and 
drinking  from  a  glass  is  a  slow  and  tedious  process, 
to  facilitate  matters  had  provided  two  large,  bright, 
new  dish-pans  which  he  filled  with  wine,  also  a  plen- 
tiful supply  of  bright,  new,  tin  dippers. 

They  drank  Symes *s  health  in  long,  deep  draughts 
and  it  was  with  some  forebodings  that  Symes  noted 
the  frequency  with  which  the  same  guests  appeared  in 
line.  SjTnes  had  no  great  desire  that  his  wedding 
should  go  down  in  the  annals  of  Crowhoart  as  the 
most  complete  drunk  in  its  history  nor  was  his  bank 


A  .MESALLIANCE 


37 


account  inexhaustible.  Also  he  observed  with  annoy- 
ance that  his  newly-created  brother-in-law,  Adolph 
Kunkel,  had  retired  to  a  quiet  corner  where  he  nii^'ht 
drink  from  the  bottle  uiunolested.  Adolph  Kunkel, 
sober,  was  bad  enough,  but  Adolph  Kunkel,  drunk, 
was  worse. 

That  his  fears  were  not  unfounded  wa.s  shortly 
made  evident  by  the  app(\arance  of  Sylvanus  Starr 
with  a  blatiil.  bucolic  smile  upon  his  wafer-like  coun- 
tenance and  his  scant  foretop  tied  in  a  baby-blue 
ribbon  which  had  embellished  the  dainty  hnm  sand- 
wiches provided  by  Mrs.  Terriberry.  By  the  time 
the  dance  was  well  under  way  eyes  had  brii^ditened 
perceptibly  and  sunburned  faces  had  taken  on  a 
deeper  hue  while  Snake  River  Jim  sat  with  a  pickle 
behind  his  ear  and  his  eyes  rolled  to  the  ceiling  as 
though  entranced  l)y  his  own  heavenly  strains. 

As  the  room  grew  warmer,  the  conversation  waxed 
louder,  the  dance  faster  and  the  whoops  of  exiber- 
ance  more  frecjuent,  until  Bedlam  reigned.  P.'rcy 
Parrot  chancing  to  observe  "Tinhorn  Frank"  slid- 
ing toward  the  door  with  two  unopened  bottles  of 
champagne  protruding  from  his  coat  pockets  made 
a  low  tackle  and  clasped  him  about  the  ankles.  As 
"Tinhorn"  lay  prone  he  was  shamed  in  vivid  Eng- 
lish by  the  graceful  barber  while  the  new  plasterer 
excused  himself  from  his  partner  long  enough  to  kick 
the  prostrate  ingrate  in  the  ribs.  ^Mrs.  "dank" 
Terriberry,  whose  hair  looked  like  a  pair  of  angora 
"chaps"  in  a  hiuh  wiiul,  returning  from  her  third 
trip  to  the  dish-pan,  burst  into  tears  at  the  man's 
depravity  and  inadvertently  wiped  her  streaming 
eyes  on  the  end  of  her  long  lace  jabot  instead  of  her 
handkerchief. 


4 


88 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Sylvanus    Sfarr.    deelari^^'    that,    his    chivalrona 
nature  was  unal.le  to  endure  the  sijrht  of  a  woman's 
tears,  sought  to  divert  lier  })y  slippin-  his  anu  about 
her  waist  and  whirlinpr  her  dizzily  the  l.>nf,'th  of  the 
room  and  baek  iipain  where  they  were  met  l)v  Mr. 
Terriberry  who,  while  pli.yfully  endeavorin-  to  snatch 
his  wife  from  the  ((litor's  encirelin<r  arms,  aoeiden- 
tally  stepped   on   the  train   of  her  blaek  ..atin  skirt. 
There  was  a  poppinpr.  rippin?  sound!     In  the  brief 
but  awful   seeond   while  this  handsome  ereation   slid 
to  the  fioor.  .Afrs.   Terriberry  stood   panie-strieken  in 
a   short,    red-tiiinnel    pcttieoat.     She   sereamed    pierc- 
ingly and  with  the  sound  of  her  own  voice  recovered 
her  presence  of  mind.     Swooping,  she  pieked  up  the 
garment  and  bounded  out  of  the  room,  thereby  re- 
vealing upon  her  plump  ealves  the  eneirelin-  stripes 
of  a  pair  of  white  and  black  stoekings. 

The  milliner,  who  was  clairvoyant,  covered  her 
face  with  her  gauze  fan.  while  Pearlinc  and  Plan- 
ch-tte  Starr  asked  to  be  taken  into  the  air,  and  left  the 
room  each  leaning  heavily  upon  an  arm  of  the  "She?p 
King  of  Poison  Crick." 

The  remittance  man  from  Devon.shire  remo-?d  the 
crash  towel  from  it.s  roller  in  the  wash-room  off 
the  hotel  office,  and  spread  it  carefully  on  the  floor 
in  a  comer  to  protect  his  clothing  while  he  refreshed 
himself  with  a  short   nap. 

A  Roumanian  prince  who  had  that  day  returned 
from  a  big  game  hunt  in  the  mountains  and  who 
had  been  cordially  urged  by  Symes  to  honor  his  wed- 
ding, adjusted  his  monocle  and  stood  on  a  chair 
under  a  kerosene  wall-lamp  that  he  might  the  better 
inspect  the  fig  "filling"  of  Mrs.  Terriberry's  laver 
cake  which  he  seemed  to  regard  with  some  suspicion. 


A  MESALLIANCE 


39 


Mrs.  Abe  Tutts,  who  was  reputed  to  have  histrionic 
ability,  of  her  own  accord  recited  in  a  voice  which 
made  the  welkin  rin;?:  "Shoot  if  you  will  this  old 
gray  head,  But  spare  ray  country's  flag."  Whereupon 
"Baby"  Briggs,  six  foot  two  in  his  cowboy  boots, 
produced  a  six-shooter  and  humorously  pretended  to 
be  about  tc  take  her  at  her  word.  Mrs.  Tutts  was 
revived  from  a  fainting  condition  by  a  drink  while 
"Baby"  Briggs  was  relieved  of  his  weapon. 

"Take  your  pardners  for  a  quadrille!"  yelled 
Curly,  the  camp  cook,  rising  from  his  chair. 

The  guests  scrambled  for  places  in  the  quickly 
formed  sets. 

"Swing  your  pardner!"  he  whooped. 
Andy  P.  Symes  slipped  his  arm  about  Essie  Tis- 
dale's  waist  and  the  dance  moved  fast  and  furious. 
"Join  your  hands  and  circle  to  the  left!" 
Around  they  went  in  a  giddy  whirl  and  starched 
petticoats  stood  out  like  hoopskirts. 

"First  lady  swing  with  the  right  hand  round  with 
the  right  hand  gent!" 

The  train  of  Mrs.  Abe  Tutts 's  diaphanous  "tea- 
gown"  laid  out  on  the  breeze,  thereby  revealing  the 
fact  that  she  was  wearing  Congress  gaiters,  com- 
fortable but  not  "dressy." 

"Pardner  with  your  left  with  your  left  hand 
round ! ' ' 

Andy  P.  Symes  held  Essie  Tisdale's  hand  in  a 
lingering  clasp  and  whispered  in  foolish  flattery; 

' '  Terpsichore  herself  outdone ! ' ' 

"Swing  in  the  centre  and  seven  hands  around. 
Birdie  hop  out  and  crow  hop  in !  Take  holt  of  paddies 
and  run  around  agin!" 

Abe  Tutts  executed  a  double  shuffle  on  the  comer 


I 


40 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"Allomando  Joe!  I^ipht  liaiid  to  panlnor  and 
around  you  <,'o!  Bnlaneo  to  corners,  don't  be  slack! 
Turn  ri^'ht  around  and  take  a  back  track!  When 
you  git  home,  don't  be  afraid.  Swing  her  a?in  and 
all  promenade!" 

It  was  a  plorious  dance  and  it  moved  unflacrfrinply 
to  the  end;  but  when  it  was  done  and  th(.'  dancers 
lauphin-r  and  exhausted  sousht  their  seats,  it  was 
discovered  that  Snake  River  Jim  had  fallen  to  weep- 
ing because  he  said  it  was  his  unhappy  lot  to  work 
while  others  danced. 

Therefore  Sylvanus  Starr  sufrprestec:  that  out  of  a 
delicate  regard  for  an  artist's  feelings,  and  no  one 
could  ih'uy  but  Snake  River  Jim  was  that,  the  dance 
be  temporarily  suspended  while  the  bridegroom  and 
others  exjircssed  their  sentiments  and  delidit  in  the 
occasion  by  a  f,nv  remarks,  Sylvanus  Starr  himself 
setting  the  examjile  by  bursting  into  an  eulogy  which 
had  the  impassioned  Ktvof  of  inspiration. 

The  vocabulary  of  laudatory  adjectives  gleaned 
in  many  years'  experience  in  the  obituarv-  department 
of  an  eastern  newspaper  were  ejected  like  volcanic 
matter,  red  hot  and  unrestrained,  running  over  and 
around  the  name  of  Symes  to  harden  into  sentences 
of  which  "a  magnificent  specimen  of  ma:  >od,  a 
physical  and  intellectual  giant,  g.dlantiy  .snatching 
from  our  midst  the  fairest  flower  that  ever  bloomed 
upon  a  desert  waste,"  only  moderately  illustrates  the 
editor's  gift  of  language. 

When  Andy  P.  Symes  stood  on  a  chair  and  faced 
the  expectant  throng  the  few  trite  remarks  which  he 
had  in  mind  all  but  tied  when  his  eyes  fell  feu-  the 
first  time  upon  his  bride  buttoned  into  her  "going 
away   gown."     As    he   mounted   the    chair   his   face 


A  MESAI>TJANC"E 


41 


wore  the  set  smile  of  fhr  man  who  means  to  die  a 
nervy    dojith    on    tho    trallows.      His    voico    sounded 
strained  and  nnnatund  to  liiniseli'  as  he  befjan : 
"Ladies  and  ^'entlemen." 

"  Weo-hcc ! "  S(iu(>ah'd  a  youth  in  a  leather  collar 
and  a  raftlcskin  necktie. 

"This  is  till"  ha{)pi('st  moment  of  my  life!" 
"Wee-ouph!     Jt  onprht  to  be !"   yelled  the  "Sheep 
Kinpr  of  Poison  Criek"  a.s  he  pressed  the  arms  of  the 
Misses  Starr  gently  and  impartially  apainst  his  sides. 
"Also  llic  proudest  moment."     He  looked  at  his 
bride,   nolintr  that   she   wore   a  broach   which   mipht 
have  beloncred  on  a  set  of  harness. 
"Yip!   Yip!   Yee-ouph!" 

"I  am  deeply  conscious  of  my  own  unworthiness 
and   not   in.sensible   to   the   fact  that   the   gods  have 

sin<rl('d  me  out  for  special  favor " 

Any  reference  to  the  prods  was  eonsitlered  a  mark 
of  learning  and  eloquence,  so  Symes's  humble  admis- 
sion was  loudly  applauded. 

"Love,  the  Wise  Ones  say,  'is  blind.'  If  this  is 
true  it  is  my  earnest  wi.sh  that  I  may  remain  so.  for 
I  desire  to  continue  to  re,u:ard  my  wife  as  the  most 
beautiful,  attractive,  charmingr  of  her  sex."  He 
bowed  elaborately  toward  the  grotesque  figure  whose 
adoring  eye.s  were  fixed  upon  his  face. 

The  .tniests  howled  in  ecstasy  at  this  flight  of  senti- 
ment and  only  Dr.  Ilarpe  caught  the  sneering  note 
beneath  the  commonplaces  he  uttered  with  such  con- 
vincing fervor. 

"What  a  cad,"  she  thought,  yet  she  looked  in 
something  like  admiration  at  his  towering  figure. 
"If  only  he  had  brains  in  proportion  to  his  body  he 


might  accomplish  great  things  here."  she  m\ 


4t 


THi:  LADY  DOC 


I  iTivy  him  his 


ShruKping  hor  .shouldir,  sho  added 
chance. ' ' 

It  did  not  occur  to  any  person  [>'*('sont  that  this 
weddinp:  was  an  Important,  far-reaching'  event  to  any 
save  the  principals:  but  to  Essie  Tisdalc  and  to  Dr. 
Ilarpe  it  was  a  turninf,'  point  in  their  careers.  It 
meant  waning  tnunii)hs  to  the  merry  little  belle  of 
Crowheart.  while  it  spread  a  fallow  fit-ld  before  Dr. 
Ilarpe  the  plantinj,'  of  which  in  deeds  of  good  or  evil 
was  as  surely  in  her  hands  as  is  the  seed  the  farmer 
sows  for  his  ultimate  harvest.  Which  it  was  to  be, 
can  be  surmised  from  the  fact  that  already  she  was 
considering  how  soon,  Jin.J  in  what  way,  she  might 
utilize  her  knowledge  a  cr  Symes's  return  from  his 
wedding  joumoy. 


'^s 


IV 

"  The  Okouno  Floor" 

Wnii,E  Andy  P.  Symos  on  liis  honeymoon  was  com- 
bining' busin«-.s.s  with  pleasuro  in  that  va{,'uc  n-triou 
known  iu-f  "Hack  East,"  and  hi.s  bride  was  K-arnini,' 
not  to  fold  the  hotel  napkin  or  call  tho  waiter  "sir," 
the  popnlatioii  of  Crowheart  wa.s  increasing'  so  rapidly 
that  the  town  had  f^rowinf?  i)ains.  Where,  la.st  month, 
the  ea«-tus  bloomed,  tar-pai)er  shacks  surrounded  by 
ehickeii-wire,  kid-proof  fences  was  home  the  next  to 
families  of  tow-heads. 

Crowheart,  the  citizens  of  the  newly  incorporated 
town  told  each  other,  was  booming  rif)ht. 

They  came  in  prairie  schooners,  travel-Kt^Jned  and 
Weary,   their   horses   thin    and   jaded    from   the   lon<r, 
lieavy  pull  across  tiie  sandy   trail    of  the   sagebrush 
desert.     With  funds  barely  sufficient  for  horse  feed 
and  a  few  weeks'  provisions,  they  came  without  defi- 
nite   knowledtre    «f    conditions    or    plans.     A    rumor 
had  reached  them  back  there  in  .>rinnesota  or  Iowa, 
Nebraska  or  Missouri,  of  the  opportunities  in  this  new- 
country  and,  anyway,  th.-y  wanted  to  move—rvhcrc 
was  not  a  matter  of  great  moment.     Others  came  by 
rail,    all    bearing    the    earmarks    of    straitened    cir- 
cumstances, and  few  of  them  with  any  but  the  mo.st 
vague  ideas  as  to  what  they  had  come  for  beyond  the 
universal  expectation  of  getting  rich,  somehow,  some- 
where, some  time.    They  were  poor  alike,  and  the  first 
efforts  of  the  head  of  each  household  were  spent  in 
the  construction  of  a  place  of  shelter  for  himself  and 


^e  — 


4S 


44 


rili:   LADY    DOC 


pvor  tho  suhjfct,  of  ridicule  or  comment,  for  most 
h;i(l  a  sympathetic  uiidcrstandiii^'  of  (h,.  rmcrL'<'iicic.s 
which  made  them  necessary.  Kinducss,  helpfulness, 
pxxi  fellowship  were  in   the  air. 

When  Kphrium  Haskitt  loomed  up  on  ti,,.  horizon 
with  two  freiLrht   wai^'ons  filled  with  the  dust-eovered 
canned  i^'oods  of  a  defunct  irrocery  store  and  twenty- 
four  hours  later  was  a  lixture,  n,>hody  .saw  anythint,'  hu- 
i.iorous  in  the  headline  in  the  (\niri<r  which  heralded 
him  as  "The  Merchant   i'rince  of  (Jrowheart. "     Two 
ticw  saloons  o|)en.'d  while"  Curly  "resiiriied  a.s  chef  for 
the  J,a/,y  S  Outfit  to  ii.'conn"  tht;  orchestra  in  a  tu-w  dance 
Iiall  which  ai-rived  about  niidnii^ht  in  a  i)rairie  schooner. 
As   Dr.    llarpe   made    friends   with  the  iiewe^imers 
Jind  continued  fo  in-rrafiafe  hers.-If  with  the  old,  she 
sometimes    felt    that    the    death    of    Alice    Freofl'   was 
not  after  all  the  traf,'edy  it  liad  at  first  seemed.     She 
missed   the  woman— not   the  wonuin  so  much  either, 
as  the  a.s.sociatio!'    -and  Iheiv  was  no  on(>  in  Crowheai't 
to  fill  her  i)lace,  .so  she  was  fre(|uently  lonely,  often 
bored,    with   tho    int.  n.scly   practical,   unsophisticated 
w(mien  whom  she  attracted  stron<,'ly.     Sometimes  she 
thou<,'ht    of    Ausxusfa   Kunkel    and    a    derisive    smile 
always  curved  her  lips  as  she  attempted  to  pichire  her 
m    a  worldly  .settin^'  and   the  smile   -rr.'w  when   .she 
tried  to  imaf,'ine  Symes's  sensations  while  i)resenting 
her  to  bis  friends.     She  indul-ed,  too.  in  speculation 
a.s   to   the   outcome   of   the   marria-re,   but   could   not 
venture  a  proph.H'y  since  it  was  one  of  tho.se  affairs 
to  which  no  endinj;  would  Vi  improbable. 

But  while  Dr.  llarpe  speculated,  observation  and 
the  sugnrestions  of  Andy  P.  Syme.s  were  working 
wondei-s  in  the  appearance  of  the  gawky,  long-limbed 
woman.     A  session  with  a  hair-dresser  had  iiot  hpon 


"Tin:  (JHOriM)   FLOOR" 


4/5 


wa.st('(l,  for  she  had  learned  to  .ircss  her  hair  in  the 
pn-vailintr  iiKide.  Synics  had  lost  no  timi-  in  ru.shintr 
her  to  an  cstalilishiru-nt  where  thi-  hrown  ea.sluMen' 
l»iis(|ne  and  many  ^'on-d  skirt  ha.l  been  exehant,'t'd  i'or  a 
{.'own  of  fashionahh'  cnt.  A  pair  of  Fn'nch  stays 
devt'loiied  indications  of  a  figure  arnl  Ihe  concho-Iike 
I)roaeIi  had  heeti  discarded,  wliile  Aiitoista  hcrsflf 
had  jearneil  that  hiaek  silk  mitts  h»d  not  heen  <;reatly 
in  vo^'ue  for  nearly  a  <|narter  of  a  century.  Th(> 
ronspiciious  marvel  which  had  displaye(l  the  .skill  of 
the  clairvoyant  milliner  fn  .a  South  Dakota  had  lucn 
replaced  ])y  a  liat  of  ^'ood  lines  and  simplicity,  and, 
for  the  tirst  timi'  in  lier  life,  AuLriista  Kunkel  rustled 
when  she  walked. 

Wli.n  the  transformation  was  complete.  Andy  P. 
Symes  sitrhed  in  a  little  more  than  relief,  and  mentally 
ohs'rved  that  in  the  course  of  human  events  he  ini(/ht 
be  ai)le  to  introduce  her  to  his  family. 

Xor  was  S\Tnes  himself  idle  in  a  land  where  Capi- 
tal hunj,'  like  an  ovt>r-ripe  peach  waitinrr  to  he  plucked 
hy  the  proper  hand.  Mr.  Symes  wa.s  convinced  that 
his  was  the  hand,  so  he  lost  no  opjiortunity  of  widen- 
in?  his  circle  of  desiral)le  aetpiaintances. 

Ill  his  wide-hrinmied  Stetson,  with  his  bro?d  shoul- 
ders towering  above  tlie  averatre  man,  his  p  lial  smile 
and  jovial  manners,  he  was  the  typical  free,  big- 
hearted  westerner  of  tlie  eastern  imagination.  And 
he  liked  the  role;  also  he  ])layed  it  well.  Svmes  was 
essentially  a  poseur.  He  loved  the  limelight  like  a 
showman.  To  be  foremost,  to  lead,  was  essential  to 
his  happiness.  He  demanded  satellites  and  more 
satellites.  His  love  of  prominence  amounted  to  a 
passion.    Sycophancy  was  as  acceptable  as  real  regard, 


Cin/^o     /^Ortli      nn4-f\**rk^     4-^ 


46 


THE  LADY  DOC 


It  required  monoy,  much  money,  to  live  up  to  the 
popular  conception  of  the  type  he  chose  to  represent. 
To  successfully  carry  out  his  role  of  tht  Lireezy,  liberal, 
unconventional  westerner  required  money  enough  to 
include  the  cabman  on  the  pavement  in  his  invitations 
to  drink,  money  enough  to  donate  bank  notes  to  bell- 
boys, to  wave  change  to  waiters,  to  occupy  boxes  where 
he  could  lay  his  conspicuous  Stetson  upon  the  rail. 
Having  indulged  himself  in  these  delightful  extrava- 
gances, Symes  was  suddenly  recalled  one  morning  to 
a  realization  cf  the  fact  that  earthly  paradises  end 
)y  a  curt  notification  from  his  bank  that  he  had 
overdrawn  his  account. 

This  was  awkward.  It  was  particularly  awkward 
to  Symes  because  he  had  no  a-sset.s.  With  the  sin^u'T 
improvidence  which  distinguished  him  he  hati  not  pro- 
vided for  this  exigency  before  leaving  Crowheart. 
True,  he  had  made  a  vague  calculation  which  would 
seem  to  indicate  that  he  had  sufficient  funds  to  last 
the  trip,  but  it  wfis  more  extended  than  he  had  antici- 
pated and  he  had  forgotten  to  deduct  the  amount  of 
the  checks  which  he  had  given  in  payment  for  the 
champagne  provided  in  such  unstinted  quantities  by 
"Hank"  Terriberry. 

Not  only  was  Symes  without  reserve  funds  but  he 
had  a  large  hotel  bill  owing.  Yes,  it  was  high  time 
he  was  "doing  something."  "Doing  something"  to 
Mr.  SvTnes,  meant  devising  some  means  of  securing 
an  income  without  physical  and  no  great  mental 
effort,  something  which  should  be  compatible  with  the 
notable  House  of  SvTnes. 

Had  he  borne  any  other  than  that  sacred  name  he 
would  have  turned  to  insurance  or  a  mail  order  busi- 
ness with  the  same  unerring  instinct  with  which  the 


"  THE  GROUND  FLOOR  "  47 

sunflower  turns  to  the  sun,  but  this  avenue  was  closed 
to  him  by  the  necessity  of  T>reser\-ing  the  dignity  of 
his  nanio.  It  was  necessary  for  him  as  a  Symes  to 
promote  some  enterprise  which  would  give  him  the 
power  and  prestige  in  the  community  which  belonged 
to  him. 

Mr.  Symos  had  been  East  before  with  this  end  in 
view.    As  he  himself  observed,  "he  never  went  East 
except  to  eat  oysters  and  raise  money."    He  had  bc-n 
much  more  successful  as  an  oyster  eater  than  a  pro- 
moter.     There    was    that   vein   of    coking   coal   over 
beyond    the    "Limestone    Rim";    he    nearly    landed 
that,  but  the  investors  discovered  too  soon  that  it  was 
150  miles  from  a  railroad.     There  was  an  embryo 
coal  mine  back  in  the  hills-a  fine  proposition  but 
open  to  the  same  objection.    Also  an  asbestos  deposit 
valueless  for  the  same  reason.    He  had  tried  copper 
prospects  with  startling  assays  and  had  found  himself 
shunned  nor  had  mountains  of  marble  aroused  the 
enthusiasm    of   Capital.       They   had    listened    with 
marked  coldness  to  his  story  of  a  wonderful  oil  seep- 
age and  had  turned  a  deaf  ear  on  natural  gas     He 
had  baited  a  hook  with  a  stratum  of  gypsum  which 
would  furnish  the  world  with  cement.     Capital  had 
barely  sniffed  at  the  bait.     Nor  had  banks  of  shale 
adapted  to  the  making  of  a  perfect  brick  appealed  to 
Its  jaded  palate.    But  Sj-mes  was  never  at  a  loss  for 
something  to  promote,  for  there  was  always  a  nebula 
ot  scheines  vaguely  present  in  his  prolific  brain     Irri- 
Ration  was  the  opportunity  of  the  moment,  and  he 
meant  to  grab  it  with  a  strangle  hold.     He  had  been 
dilatory  but  now  he  inten.led  to  get  down  to  business. 
It  only  he  could  hang  on  until  ho  accomplished  his 
end .    Symes  stopped  manicuring  his  nails  with  a  pin 


48 


THE  LADY  DOC 


which  he  kept  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat  for  that  com- 
mendable purpose,  and  counted  his  money.  He  was 
thankful  that  since  he  had  overdrawn  his  account  he 
had  done  it  so  liberally  as,  by  strict  economy,  it  would 
enable  him  to  remain  a  short  while  and  depart  with 
his  credit  still  unimpaired. 

Augusta  Symes  regarded  the  pile  of  crisp  bank- 
notes with  pleased  eyes.  She  could  not  recollect  ever 
having  seen  so  much  money  together  before ;  the 
proceeds  of  horse-shoeing  and  wagon  repairs  came 
mostly  in  silver.  Placing  the  bank-notes  in  his  wallet 
with  considerably  more  than  his  usual  care,  Mr.  Symes 
paced  the  floor  of  their  corner  suite  with  the  slow, 
measured  strides  of  meditation,  his  noble  head  sunk 
upon  his  breast  and  his  broad  brow  corrugated  in 
thought.  IMrs.  Symes 's  eyes  followed  him  in  silent 
and  respectful  admiration. 

When  he  stopped,  finally,  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  the  fire  of  enthusiasm  was  newly  kindled  in  his 
eyes  and  an  unconscious  squaring  of  his  shoulders 
announced  that  he  was  now  prepared  to  ''do  some- 
thing." 

Symes  really  had  initial  energy  and  the  trait  was 
most  apparent  when  driven  by  necessity.  The  first 
step  toward  getting  his  enterprise  under  way  was  the 
bringing  together  of  the  people  he  hoped  to  interest. 
He  rerched  for  his  hat  and  straightened  his  scarf 
before  the  mirror. 

Augusta  watched  the  preparation'^  in  some  dismay; 
she  dreaded  being  alone  in  the  great  hotel. 

"Will  you  be  gone  long,  Mr.  S.ymes?" 

"Good  God!  Don't  call  me  Mister  Symes,"  he 
burst  out  in  unexpected  exasperation. 

Augusta's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 


"  THE  GROUND  FLOOR  "  49 

"But— but  everybody  calls  you  'Andy'  and— 
and  just  'Symes'  sounds  so  familiar.  Why  can't  I 
call  you  '  Phidias?'  " 

"Phidias!  Do,  by  all  means,  call  me  Phidias  I 
dote  on  Phidias!  I  love  the  combination— Phidias 
Symcs.     Father  was  drunk  when  he  named  me  " 

He  slammed  the  door  behind  him,  for-etting  to 
explain  that  he  was  not  returning  lor  luncheon  or 
dinner  so,  that  evening,  while  Augusta  wandered  aim- 
lessly through  the  rooms,  both  hungry  and  anxious 
yet  afraid  to  venture  into  the  big  dining-room,  Andy 
1  .  -Symes  was  saying  with  impressive  emphasis  as  he 
fumbled  in  a  box  of  cabanas: 

"Big  opportunities,  1  am  convinced,  seldom  come 
more  than  once  to  a  man." 

His  guests  listened  to  the  trite  axiom  with  the 
respect  due  one  who  has  met  and  grappled  success- 
tuJiy  with  his  one  great  chance.  His  well-fed  appear- 
ance, his  genial,  contented  .mile,  gave  an  impression 
o  prosperity  even  when  his  linen  was  frayed  and  his 
elbows  glossy;  now  in  the  latest  achievement  of  a 
good  tailor  it  was  difficult  to  conceive  him  as  being 
anything  less  than  a  millionaire. 

"And  this,"  Symes  looked  squarely  in  each  ea<^er 
eye  in  turn,  "this,  gentlemen,  is  such  an  oppor- 
tunity. "  ^* 

The  timid  voice  of  a  man  who  had  made  a  hun- 
dred  thousand  from  a  patent  iiy-trap  broke  the  awed 
silence. 

"It  sounds  good." 

-bounds  good!    It  .-.good."    Mr.  Symes  clenched 
ft  -s  huge  fist  and  .mphasized  the  declaration  with  a 
blow  upon  the  tabic  which  made  the  dishes  rattle 
Ihmk  of  It,"  he  went  on,  "two  hundred  thou- 


50 


THE  LADY  DOC 


sand  acres  that  can  be  made  to  bloom  like  the  rose. 
An  earthly  paradise  of  our  own  making?."  The 
flowery  figures  were  borrowed  from  a  railroad  folder 
but  Mr.  Symes  had  grasped  them  with  the  avidity  of 
true  genius  and  made  them  his  own.     "And  how?" 

The  waiter  starting  away  with  a  tray  load  of 
dishes  stopped  to  learn. 

"By  the  mere  introduction  of  water  upon  the  most 
fertile  soil  in  the  world !  Is  there  anything  like  it — 
a  miracle  worker!"  Mr.  Symes  shut  one  eye  and 
peered  into  an  empty  bottle.  "And  Iiow  can  this  be 
done?"  He  answered  himself.  "By  the  expenditure 
of  a  ridiculously  small  amount  of  money;  the  absurd 
sum  of  $250,000.    And  look  at  tb"  returns!" 

By  the  intentness  of  their  gaze  it  was  evident 
that  all  were  willing  enough  to  look.  Symes  lowered 
his  voice  to  a  dramatic  whisper  and  swept  the  air 
with  his  outspread  fingers 

"A  clean  million!" 

The  man  who  made  only  six  thousand  a  year  sell- 
ing plumbers'  supplies,  gulped. 

"But  who's  goin'  to  buy  it?"  It  was  the  timid 
voice  ot  the  Fly-trap  King. 

"Bun  if'"  The  questioner  withered  before 
Symes 's  scorn.  "Buy  it?  Why,  the  world  is  land- 
hungry — frying  for  land  ! — and  water.  But  1  've  con- 
sidered all  that;  I've  arranged  for  it,"  Mr.  Symes 
went  on  with  a  touch  of  impatience.  "We'll  colonize 
it.  We'll  import  Russian  Jews  to  raise  sugar-beets 
for  the  sugar-beet  factory  which  we  will  establish. 
They  will  buy  it  for  $50  an  acre  cash  or  $60  an  acre 
with  10  per  cent,  interest  upon  the  deferred  payments. 
It 's  very  simple. 

"But — but — I    thought    Russian    Jews    went  in 


"  THE  GROUND  FLOOR  "  51 

mostly  for  collar  buttons,  shoe-strings  and  lace- 
mercantile  enterprises-commercial  natures,  you 
know  Besides,  where  they  going  to  get  their  money 
lor  the  first  payment  ?  " 

Symes  curbed  his  irritation  at  the  piffling  obiec- 
tions  of  the  Fly-trap  King  and  responded  tolerantiv 
Tf  ,^^^"/,«'"^'^°'^«  a  bank  and  loan  'em  the  money. 
If  they  fa.l  to  come  through  at  the  specified  time  the 
land  will  return  to  the  company  and  we'll  have  their 
improvements,   making   them   a   small   allowance   for 
same,  at  our  discretion.     We'll  lay  out  a  town  and 
bu  Id  an  Opera  House,  get  electric  light  and  street 
railway  franchises-a  million?    Why,  there's  millions 
in  sight  when  you  consider  the  passibilities  " 

The  painting  of  the  roseate  picture  had  flushed 
Mr.     Symes  s     cheeks ;     already     "  Symes ville"     or 
Symeston       rose    clear    before    his  mental    vision 
^•hile  h,s  hsteners  endeavored  to  calculate  their  share 
ot  the  m.lhons  when  proportioned  in  accordance  with 
the  investment  of  all  their  available  cash.     Certainly 
the  returns  were  temptii.gly  large  and  the  least  opti- 
m.s  ,c  among  them  believed  he  could  convince  his  wife 
of    he  perfect  safety  of  the  investment,  the  success 
Ijvf  ^"^  P^-^tically  assured  by  the  fact  that 

pared  !o  r"\Z  '"  ^"^^^'^^^^^  salary,  as  com- 
pared to  his  ability,  was  willing  to  assume  the 
management. 

A  slender,  blond  gentleman,  who  derived  a  satis- 
laetory  income  from  the  importation  of  Scotch 
woollens  and  Irish  linens,  confessed  that  for  year, 
he  had  cherished  a  secret  desire  to  do  something  for 
mankmd,  providing  he  wa.  assured  of  a  reasonable 
return  upon  his  investment,  and,  with  the  King  of 
Brobdingnag,  behoved  that  the  man  who  made   say 


5S 


THE  LADY  DOC 


two   sugar-beets  grow   where  only   one   f?rew  before, 
rendered  an  incalcidable  service  to  the  human  race. 

The  other  griiests  expressed  their  achniration  of  the 
woollen  importer's  high  sentiments,  and  while  they 
admitted  that  no  such  noble  impulse  governed  them 
they  subscribed  generously  for  stock  in  the  company 
which  was  formed  then  and  there  to  apply  for  the 
segregation  of  200,000  acres  of  irrigable  land. 

Mr.  Hymes  talked  familiarly  of  State  Land  Boards, 
water  rights,  flood  water,  ditches,  laterals,  subsoil  and 
seepage,  the  rotation  of  crops  and  general  productive- 
ness until  even  the  cynical  politician  who  controlled 
the  negro  vote  in  his  ward  began  to  realize  that  it 
was  a  liberal  education  merely  to  know  Andy  P. 
Symes,  not  to  mention  the  distinction  of  being  asso- 
ciated with  him  in  business. 

Inspired  by  the  prospect  of  once  again  handling 
real  money,  Andy  P.  Symes  talked  with  an  earnestness 
and  fluency  which  cast  a  hypnotic  spell  upon  his  lis- 
teners. Swiftly,  graphically,  he  outlined  the  future 
of  the  country  which  would  be  opened  up  to  .settle- 
ment by  this  great  irrigation  project.  His  florid  face 
turned  a  deejier  red,  his  eyes  sparkled  as  the  winged 
imagination  of  the  natural  promoter  began  to  play. 
It  was  of  the  dirigible  kind,  Symes 's  imagination,  he 
could  steer  it  in  any  direction.  It  could  rise  to  any 
heights.  It  now  shot  upward  and  he  saw  himself  at 
the  head  of  a  project  which  would  make  his  name  a 
household  word  throughout  the  State.  He  saw  crowds 
of  Russian  Jews  crying  hosannas  as  he  walked  along 
the  street  of  Symesville:  he  heard  the  clang  of  trol- 
leys ;  he  saw  the  smoke  of  factories;  he  heard  the  name 
of  Symes  upon  the  lips  of  little  children;  he  saw, 
but  the  dazzling  vision  made  him  blink  and  he  leaned 


THE  GROUND  FLOOR  " 


BS 

ba.-k  in  his  chair  with  the  boneficent  smile  of  a  man 
who  had  just  endowed  a  hospital  for  crippled  chil- 
dren wh.e  he  permitted  himself  to  accept  a  subscrip- 
t.on  lor  $15,000  from  a  ,niest  who  had  cleared  that 
'"odest  sum  in  the  manufaet.ire  of  white  lead  and 
paint  A  slow  and  laborious  process  compared  to  the 
sale  ol  irnpated  land  to  Russian  Jews 

..r.t1rr  Vr'''  ""'""^  ^'^  ^^"^  ^^  ^^^^ing,  in  silent 
^-ratitu  le  at  bemg  permitted  to  get  in  cm  the  ground 
tioor  ot  what  wa.s  undoubtedly  the  greatest  money 
mak.ng  enterpr.se  still  open  to  investors.  And  thev 
<;H  hu„  w>  h  the  assurance  of  their  hearty  co-opera- 
t.on  and  wilhngness  to  endeavor  to  raise  the  balance 
among  their  friends. 

While  the  subscribers  for  the  stock  of  the  Symes 
Irriga  ,on  Project  were  rousing  their  wives  from  ZTr 
first  sleep  to  gloat  with  them  over  the  unprecedented 
?ood  fortune  which  had  thrown  the  big-hearted  and 
shrewd  but  honest  westerner  in  their  paths  tat  per 
-son  was  returning  from  a  night  lunch  caz.'  with  Uvo 
hot  frankfurter  sandwiches  for  Augusta  concealed  in 
h.s  pocket.     The  dinner,  although  so  fruitful  of  re 
suits,   had  senously  reduced  the  roU   of  crisp  bank 

Strict  economy  wa.s  imperative   during  the   days 
which  followed  and  it  became  no  uncommon  ocur 
rence  for  Andy  P.  Symes  to  whisk  Augusta  into  a 
earavan.sera  where  the  gentlemen  patrofs  ate  Ta^ge 
fi  hng   plates   of  griddle     .kes   with   their   hats  Tn 

fX^Tj'^  ^'V"'"''  ^*"''^  ''  ^^^'^h  ^he  proudest 
spirits   are  sometimes  reduced  and  depressing  as  ,t 

was  to  Andy  P.  Symes,  who  winced  each  time  that  he 

eated  himself  at  the  varnished  pine  table  upon  whicn 

the  pewter  castor  was  chained  to  t.h.  w«li  .L  IZl!.!? 


M 


THE  LADY  DOC 


a  paper  napkin  from  a  f,'la.ss  tumbler  he  consoled 
himself  with  the  thouf,'ht  that  it  would  not  be  for  Ion- 
Also  It  was  some  little  eompensation  to  see  traees  of 
anmiation  in  Au^rusta's  stolid  face,  for  the  atmos- 
phere was  vastly  more  congenial  to  his  wife  than  that 
of  the  fa^shionable  hotel  restaurant  where  her  appetite 
fled  before  the  waiter's  observant  eye  and  the  bewil- 
dering nightmare  of  a  menu. 

Invariably  upon  these  humiliating  occasions  when 
Symes  dined  cheek  by  jowl  with  hoi  polloi  who  left 
their  spoons  in  their  cups  and  departed  using  a  tooth- 
pick like  a  peavy,  his  thoughts  turned  to  his  coming 
triumi.h  in  Crowheart.  And  although  his  gorge  rose 
at  the  sight  of  a  large,  buck  cockroach  which  scurried 
across  the  table  and  turned  to  wave  a  fraternal  le- 
at  hmi  before  it  disappeared,  the  knowledge  that  he 
would  soon  take  his  rightful  position  as  that  city's 
leading  t-tizen  helped  to  restore  his  equanimity. 

With  an  assured  income,  Company  money  to  spend 
among  thr  local  merchant.s,  work  for  many  applicants 
S>Tnes  felt  that  he  could  do  little  else  than  step  into 
the  niche  which  clearly  belonged  to  him.     The  one 
smudge   upon   the   picture   was   Augusta.     Her  eyes 
were  ever  upon  him  in  adoring,  dog-like  fidelity  and 
It  irritated  him.     Her  appearance  had  altered  amaz- 
ingly, she  no  longer  called  him  "Mister  Symes,"  and 
by  repeated  corrections  he  had  sueceefleJ  in  inducin- 
her   to   refrain   from   folding  her   hands   upon   her 
abdomen,  but  the  plebeian  strain,  the  deficiency  of 
gentle   birth  betrayed   itself  in   a  dozen  little  ways, 
by  indelicacies  none  the  less  irritating  because  they 
were  trifling. 

Symes  knew  what  a  gentlewoman  should  be    for 
he  had  mingled  with  them  in  the  past  and  he  never 


"  THE  GROUND  FLOOR  "  u 

had  thought  of  hi.s  wife  as  being  anything  else  than 
well  born.  Augusta's  large  knuckled  hands,  con- 
spicuous m  white  kid  gloves,  her  long,  flat  feet  the 
«h,ny  bald  spots  behind  her  ears,  were'sources'f  rea^^ 
mort.hcat.on  to  him,  and  invariably  he  found  himself 
growing  red  upon  the  occasions  when  it  was  necessary 
to  present  her  to  his  friends. 

In  the  presence  of  other  women  she  sat  bolt  up- 
r  ght    a  red  spot  burning  on  either  cheek-bone,  her 

T'  TT  "'''^.  "'''""'■'^  '^^^'^^'"^"t  while  she  an. 
swered  the  careless  small  talk  with  preternatural 
senousness^  At  such  times  Symes  himself  talked 
rap.dly  to  h.de  the  gaucheries  of  her  speech,  and  they 

If  the  yoke  were  chafing  already,  he  a-sked  himself 
frequently,  what  would  its  weight  be  in  a  vear  five 
ten  years  later?  '       '        ' 


Anotiiku  Cask  iv  .SrRfjKRv 

Dr  Emma  IIaki-k  vv.lk,.d  l.riskiy  n.t..  h.r  ofTlce 
«n.l,  taking'  tc-n  sih-.-r  dollars  and  so.u.  worn  hank- 
notes  from  the  poc-k.t  ,.f  h.r  .s,,uar..-,.uL  .-..at,  nil.d 
them  ujx.n  licr  office  desk. 

"Moses!  I  „,.ed  that  money,  and."  .she  sni-fjered 
.'.t  the  re.-olleetion,  "di.hft  old  I)„hois  hate  to  di-  " 

She  threw  the  Stetson  hat  sh.-  now  affeete,n,pon 
a  chair  her  coat  upon  another,  and  rollini,'  a  cigar- 
ette wUh  the  skill  of  practice,  .sauntere<l  up  and 
down  the  room.  ' 

tvni'";' ■'  't'^'''"".  "'^^^-^^'^  "^^1  f^'"nea.     Looks  like 
t^phoul.      If   ,t    ,s,    it'll    pull    me   out   of   this   hole 
Mileage  counts  up  in  this  country  at  a  dollar  a  n.ile' 
Ahout   five   cases   of  typhoid   would   put   mo   square 
a,.a,n  and  see  me  through  the  summer;  an  epidemic 
™id  he  a  godsend.     This  is  the  iufernalest  healthv 
country  I   ever  .saw;   die   in   their  In.ots   or  dry   up 
and  blow  oft.    Two  cases  of  measles  and  the  who^pi   ' 
cough  .n  six  weeks.     Dubois  comes  like  a  shower  of 
nianna,  for  I  can  t  stand  .,ff  the  Terriberrys  forever 
I  II  pro  out  and  see  him  again  in  a  couple  of  davs 
and  gu.  h.m  a  dose  of  calomel.     If  ho  pulls  thr     4 
the  credit  IS  mine;  if  he  dies,  it's  the  will  of  God 
Any  way  ,t  goes,  I'm  squared.     Ilarpe,"  she  stonned 
and  looked  out  of  the  window,  "you  belong  to  a  no'b le 

bv  fwn  ""'"''^''^  i:"^  '•'  '  '^"^^'^^  ^'«^°"  accompanied 
by  two  men  on  horseback  stopped  on  the  vacant  lot 

56 


ANOTHER  CASK   IN  SUHGKKV  r,7 

opposito  tl.o  hot.l  which  U.S  nnu-h  used  n.s  a  ca.npin.^ 

-ou.h  s,,ht  and  sh.  looked  on  i„dim.r.ntlv  whiT" 
earn    was    nr.karne.s.s...i    and    ,he    .addle    hor^.s    Id 
-w.rd    he  hv.ry  stahh-  h,  one  of  the  riders  and    he 
^Ir.ver  ot   the  wa..,n  hastened  across  'he  street    look 
-.Vslu.thon,ht.  at  the  si.n,,eneath  her  window 

an<      an  the  sn.oke  out  of  the  air  before  the  hurrviuf- 

oo.step.  wineh  ha.l  told  her  of  his  approach  brought 

the  man  h,  her  olRce  door.  ^ruugui 

"Are  you  th."  doctor?"  he  asked  in  surprise  at 
seeinjja  woiran.  •»  prist  at 

She  nodded. 

"Will  you  come  over  ripht  away?    Mv  little  drl 
fell    over    the    wheel    and    <.ne    of   the    feliows   tha's 

t-f^S    ;;;'?r^'--"^^'"-    ^^-^^  happened  a  mu: 
wd>s  D.ick  but  It  s  hefrmning  to  swell  " 

dnJ^^'"'"?  *""''  ''"'  ^"'''  ^^"-^^^h  its  tan  and  the 
dust  of  travel,  and  he  plainly  chafed  at  her  del ib  rat, 
".ovements   as   she   took   banda.^es   from   the   d  awe^ 

w^  rf,  H  becau.se  of  some  nusgivings  her  swagger 
was  a  ht  le  more  pronounced  than  usual  when  she 
accompanied  him  acro.ss  the  street 

waJn'^nd'hlr'"'  "'""  '':'  '""'  ^"  ''''  ''^^^  «^  the 
^a  on  and  her  eyes  w,    e  bright  with  the  pain  of  the 

dull^ache,  and  fear  of  more  that  the  doctor  m.ght 

inanwl^^'^'^^^^'^^^'^^''    ^"-^y  .as  in  the 

;;Not  so  very  much.  Daddy,"  she  replied  bravely 
Yonr  young 'nn?"  ^' 


58 


THE  LADY  DOC 


The  man  ulnnced  at  J)r.  Ilarpe  (luickly  in  a  mix- 
ture of  Hurpriso  and  re.s«-ntment. 

"My  sister V-young'un,"  he  answered  eiirtly. 

The  child  winced  as  Dr.  Ilarpe  picked  up  the  foot 
roiifjhly  and  ran  her  fintrcrs  alonj,'  the  l)one. 

"Yep;  it's  broken."  She  hesitated  for  an  in.stant 
and  added:  "The  joh'll  cost  you  fifty  dollars." 

"Fifty  dollars!"  Consternation  was  in  the  man's 
tone.     "Ain't  that  pretty  steep  for  settin'  a  h-R?" 

"That's  my  price."  She  added  indifferently, 
"There's  another  sawbones  si.xty  inile.s  farther  on." 

"You  know  well  enough  that  she  can't  wait  to  get 
there." 

"Well,"  she  shrufrsred  her  shoulder,  "dig  then." 

"But  I  haven't  got  it,"  he  pleaded. 

"Sell  a  horse.  ' 

He  looked  to  see  if  she  was  serious;  undoubtedly 
she  was. 

"How  am  I  to  go  on  if  T  sell  a  horse?" 

"That's  your  lookout." 

He  stared  at  her  in  real  curiosity. 

"What  kind  of  a  doctor  are  you,  anyhow?  What 
kind  of  a  woman  ?" 

"0  Daddy— it's  hurtin'  worse!"  moaned  the 
child. 

Dr.  Harpe  laughed  disagreeably — 

"I'm  not  in  Crowheart  for  my  health."  Ignor- 
ing the  displeasure  which  came  into  the  man's  eyes, 
she  suggested:  "Can't  you  borrow  from  those  fel- 
lows  that  came  with  you?" 

"They're  strangers.  We  are  all  strangers  to  each 
other— we  only  fell  in  together  on  the  road.  The 
one  lying  under  the  wagon  was  on  a  tear  in  the  last 
town;  most  likely  he's  broke." 


ANOTHHK  CASE  I\  SURGERY 


.5!) 


Tho  child  in  the  l)uiik  wliinipi'n'd  with  the  inoroas- 
ing  pain. 

"How  much  have  you  got  yourself!'"  she  haf^plod. 

"  Twcuty-two  dollars  and  Jifty  cents;  it's  all 
I've  <rot  and  we're  a  hundred  niiles  yet  from  the  end 
of  our  road.  I've  <,'ot  work  there  and  I'll  trive  you 
my  note  and  send  the  balance  jus  soon  as  I  earn  it." 

Twenty-two  dollars  and  llfty  cents — it  was  more 
than  she  anticipated,  but  every  extra  dollar  was 
"velvet"  as  she  plu-a.scd  it. 

"See  what  you  can  do  with  that   fellow  outside." 

The  man's  dark  ey.'  tiashed  and  his  face  wont 
blood  red,  but  he  left  tiie  waj^'on  abrui)tly,  and  she 
heard  distinctly  the  anj^rrj-  explanation  to  his  travel- 
ling' eompiinion  lyin<r  on  a  .saddle  blanket  in  th(!  shade 
of  the  wa^'on.  The  knowledjre  that  she  was  forfei*in<» 
these  stran^rers'  resp«>ct  did  not  disturl)  her.  These 
indifrent  campers — gniie  on  the  morrow — could  do  hor 
no  harm  in  CrowheaiL  where  her  i-e[)utation  for  blunt 
kindness  and  iiiii)erturbable  jrood  nature  wa.s  already 
establishe<l.  It  was  somethinj;  of  a  luxury  to  iudul{:^e 
her  hidden  traits;  in  other  words,  she  was  enjoying 
her  meanness. 

A  forceful  ejaculation  told  her  that  the  slumbering 
debauehe  had  revived  and  ^'i-asped  the  situation.  She 
listened  intently  to  his  response  to  the  other's  request 
for  a  loan. 

"So  the  lady  doc  want,s  money?  She  wants  to 
see  the  color  of  your  dust  before  she  can  set  the  baby's 
broken  hg,  you  say?  Interesting— very.  By  all 
means  give  the  kind  lady  money.  How  much  money 
does  the  lady  want?" 

The  color  rose  swiftly  in  her  cheeks,  not  so  much 
because  of  the  mocking  words  as  the  intonation  of  the 


60 


THE  LADY  DOC 


voice  in  which  thoy  were  uttered— the  most  wonder- 
fully musical   speaking   voice   she   ever  had   heard. 
The  iui'^cy  resentment  of  the  child's  foster-father  had 
left  her  unmoved  but  this  was  different.     The  sneer- 
ing, cutting  insolence  came  from  no  ordinary  person. 
It  stung  her.    She  thought  she  detected  a  slight  for- 
eign accent  in  the  carefully  articulated  v.ords,  though 
the  phraseology  was  distinctly  western.     The  voi'ee 
was  high  pitched  without  effeminacy,  soft  yet  pene- 
trating, polished  yet  conveying  all  the  meaL-'ng  of  an 
insult.    No  Anglo-Saxon  could  express  such  mocking 
contempt  by  the  voice  alone— that  accomplishment  is 
almost  exclusively  a  gift  of  the  Latins. 

She  was  hot  and  uncomfortabh-,  conscious  that 
the  blood  was  still  in  her  face,  wh.>n  she  heard  hi^n 
scramble  to  his  feet  and  walk  to  the  back  of  the 
wagon.  Ever  after  Dr.  Ilarpe  remembered  n  as 
she  saw  h-m  first  framed  in  the  white  canvas  opening 
of  the  pnarie  schooner. 

His  unusually  high-crowned  Stetson  was  pushed 
to  the  back  of  his  head,  one  slender,  aristocratic  hand 
rested  carelessly  upon  his  hip,  a  fallen  lock  of  straight, 
black  liaii  hung  nearly  to  his  eyebrows— eyebrows 
whiph  all  but  met  above  a  pair  of  narrow,  brilliant 
eyes.  The  aq  iiline  nose,  the  creamy,  colorless  com- 
plexion, the  long  face  with  its  thir,,  slightly  dnwping 
lips  was  unmistakably  foreign  in  its  type  while  a 
loose,  silk  nef'k  scarf  containing  the  bright  colors  of 
the  Roman  stripe  added  an  alien  touch.  There  was  at 
once  high  breeding  and  reckless  diablerie  in  his  hand- 
some face. 

In  the  antagonistic  moment  in  which  they  eyed 
each  other,  Dr.  Tlarpe  endeavored  to  recall  the  some- 
thing or  somebody  which  his  appearance  suggested. 


ANOTHER  CASE  IN  SURGERY 


61 


She  groped  for  it  in  the  dim  p:allery  of  youthful 
memories.  What  was  it?  It  flashed  upon  her  with 
the  suddenness  of  a  forgotten  word.  She  remem- 
bered it  plainly  now — that  treasured,  highly  colored 
lithograph  of  a  brigand  holding  up  a  coach  in  a 
mountain  pass!  There  was  in  this  face  the  same 
mocking  deviltry-;  his  figure  had  the  same  lithe  grace; 
he  needed  only  the  big  hoop  earrings  to  complete  the 
resemblance. 

He  removed  his  hat  with  a  long,  sweeping  gesture 
and  bowed  in  exaggerated  deference. 

"At  your  service,"  he  murmured. 

"There  was  no  need "  she  began  in  a  kind 

of  apology. 

"Fifty  dollars  is  litcle  enough  to  pay  for  the  privi- 
lege of  your  skill,  madam.  Shall  it  be  in  advance? 
Of  cour    ;  in  advance." 

She  threw  out  her  hand  in  a  gesture  of  protest, 
which  he  ignored. 

"Permit  me  at  least  to  show  you  that  we  have 
it  here.  I  feel  sure  that  you  can  work  with  a  freer 
mind  if  I  count  it  out  and  lay  it  where  you  can  see 
it."  He  took  an  odd,  foreign  purse  from  the  belt  of 
his  "chaps"  and  she  noted  that  it  sagged  with  the 
weight  of  its  contents. 

"Gold,"  he  explained;  "nearly  new  from  the 
Mint.  You  can  have  it  tested  at  the  bank  before 
you  begin — acids  or  something  of  the  sort,  I  believe." 

She  cimsoned  with  anger,  but  he  went  on — 

"Fif  dollars!  What  a  very  little  sum  to  start 
the  mil'v  uf  human  kindness  flowing!" 

"I  told  him  he  needn't  mind — there  was  no  rush — 
just  when  it  was  convenient.  He  misunderstood  me." 
She  found  her  tongue  at  last  and  lied  glibly. 


52 


THE  LADY  DOC 


The  child's  foster-father  stared  at  her  as  though 
he  doubted  his  own  ears.  Her  very  audacity  left  him 
speechless. 

"There  you  are,  $50  in  gold!"  He  flung  the 
money  into  her  lap.  "Old  hoss,"  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  man's  shoulder  while  his  mocking  laugh 
again  made  her  cheeks  tingle,  "you  oughtn't  to  lie 
to  me  like  that." 

When  he  had  sauntered  across  the  street  with  his 
careless,  easy  stride  and  disappeared  inside  the  swing- 
ing  doors  of  the  bar-room  of  the  Terriberry  House, 
Dr.  Harpe  said  brus^iuely: 

"Here,  you  gotta  help  me  yank  this  leg  straight 
but,  first,  I  want  you  to  go  over  to  the  store  and 
bust  up  a  thin  box— something  for  splints— strips  off 
a  fruit  ease  would  be  best  if  you  can  get  'em." 

•'Haven  't  you  splints'?"  the  man  asked  in 
surprise. 

"No;  I've  just  come;  I  haven't  got  a  stock  yet 
and  there 's  no  drug  store  in  this  jay  town.  It 's  on  the 
way  but  that  doesn  't  help  us  now,  :  ,'e  ought  lo  have 
plaster  of  Paris  but  we  haven't.  Hurry  up — get  a 
move  on  before  it  swells  any  more." 

The  man  did  as  he  was  bid,  with  a  look  of  doubt 
and  uncertainty  upon  his  face. 

He  returned  almost  immediately  with  strips  torn 
from  a  case  of  fruit. 

"That's  good."  Dr.  Harpe  laid  them  on  the  bunk 
with  the  bandages.  She  added  shortly:  "She's  going 
to  howl." 

"Can't  you  give  her  anything?" 
"No ;  I  can't  give  ether  by  myself.    I'm  not  going 
to  take  a  chance  like  that.     If  she'd  dip  on  my  hajads 
it'd  queer  me  here  on  the  jump.      'Twon't  kill  her. 


"I^U  «o.s«.  v,H,  „r(;HT.N-T  T„  UK  T- .  MK  ,.,KK  THAT* 


ANOTHER  CASE  IN  SURGERY 


63 


She'll  probably  faint  and  then  it'll  be  easy.  When 
the  muscles  relax,  hold  on  to  her  leg  above  her  knee 
while  I  pull." 

The  man's  face  turned  a  ghastly  hue  as  the  child 
screamed  and  fainted  away,  nor  did  the  color  return 
as  he  watched  the  woman 's  clumsy  finj^ers,  the  bungl- 
ing movements  which,  unlettered  as  he  was,  told  him 
of  her  inexperience — bungling  movements  which  had 
not  even  compensating  feminine  gentleness. 

When  the  child  had  revived  and  Dr.  Ilarpe  had 
finished,  the  man  went  outside  and  leaned  against  the 
wheel. 

"Are  you  sure  it'll  be  straight?" 

She  saw  her  own  misgivings  reflected  in  his  face, 
and  it  exasperated  her. 

"What  a  fool  question.  Do  you  think  I  don't 
know  my  business?" 

He  did  not  answer,  and  she  turned  away. 

"Daddy?" 

"Yes,  Rosie."    He  was  at  her  side  at  once. 

She  lifted  her  clear  eyes  to  his  face. 

"I  don't  like  that  woman." 

"Like  her!"  he  answered  slowly.  "Like  her! 
Her  heart  is  as  black  as  my  hat." 

To  herself  Dr.  Harpe  was  saying : 

"Moses!   I  had  to  start  in  on  somebody." 

It  was  with  relief  that  she  looked  through  her 
office  window  after  supper  and  saw  that  the  wagon 
was  gone  from  the  vacant  lot. 

"Oood  riddance!"  she  muttered.  "I  wouldn't 
have  that  black-eyed  devil  hanging  around  this  town 
for  money.  He  's  onery  enought  to  do  m,  mischief. 
I  wonder  who  he  was?  He  mi^ht  be  anyiaing  or  any- 
body ;  a  dag-)  duke  or  a  hold-up— or  both.     Anyway, 


64 


THE  LADY  DOC 


he's  gone,  and  if  I  never  see  him  ajjain  it'll  be  soon 
enough." 

She  sat  down  in  her  office  chair  and  rested  her 
heels  on  the  window  sill  while  her  cigarette  burned  to 
ashes  between  her  listless  lingers.  For  a  time  she 
watched  the  white  light  of  the  June  moon  grow  on  the 
line  of  dimpled  foothills,  the  myriad  odors  of  spring 
were  in  the  air  and  the  balmy  west  wnd  lifted  the 
hair  at  her  temples  as  it  came  through  the  open  win- 
dow. She  felt  lonely— inexpressibly  lonely.  She 
thought  of  Alice  Fieoff  and  restlessness  grew.'  Down- 
stairs she  heard  Essie  Tisdale's  merry  laughter  and 
ii  changed  the  current  of  her  thoughts. 

She  had  learned  her  story  now  and  the  mystery  of 
her  identity  had  given  the  little  belle  of  Crowheart  an 
added  attraction.  Everybody  in  Crowheart  knew  her 
stor>-  for  that  matter;  it  was  one  of  the  stock  tales 
of  the  country  to  be  repeated  to  interest  .strangers. 

In  the  old  days  when  Crowlieart  was  a  blacksmith 
shop    and    the    stamping    ground    of    "Snow-shoe" 
Brown,   whose   log  cabin   hung  on   the   edge   of  the 
bench  overlooking  the  stream  like   a  crowds  nest  in 
a   Cottonwood   tree,   "Snow-shoe"   Brown   had  yelled 
in  vain,  one  spring  day,  at  a  man  and  woman  on  the 
seat  jf  a  coxerod  wagon  who  were  preparing  to  ford 
the  stream  at  the  usual  crossing.     But  the  sullen  roar 
of  the. water  drowned  his  warning  that  it  was  swim- 
ming depth,  and,  even  whi'e  he  ran  for  hi.s  horse  and 
uncoiled  his  saddle  rope,  the  current  was  sweeping  the 
wagon  and  the  struggling  horses  down  stream  "  He 
followed  along  the  bank  until  the  horse's  feet  came 
up  and  the  wagon  went  down,  while  there  floated  from 
the   open   end,    among   other   things,   something   that 
looked  to  his  astoni.shed  eyes  like  a  wooden  cradle. 


ANOTHER  CASE  IN  SURGERY 


65 


ii 


lie  threw  his  rope,  and  threw  again,  with  ;Iio  skill 
which  long  practice  in  roping  mavericks  had  given 
him;  and  gently,  gently,  with  a  success  which  seemed 
miraculous  even  to  "Snow-shoe"  Brown,  he  had 
drawn  the  hobhing  cradle  gradually  to  shore.  In- 
side, a  baby  smiled  up  at  him  vrith  t.ie  bluest  eyes 
he  ever  had  seen.  There  a.->  a  picture  primer  tuck-'d 
beneath  the  flannel  coverlet  and  it  containeil  the  single 
clue  to  her  identity.  "Esther  Tisdale"  was  written 
on  the  fly-leaf  with  a  recent  date. 

"Snow-shoe"  Brown  said  she  was  a  maverick  and 
unblushingly    (!cclar(>d    that    he    claimed    all    maver- 
icks that  he  had  had  his  rope  on;  therefore  "Esther 
Tisdale"  belonged  to  him.     lie  left  her  in  the  care 
of  the  wife  of  a  cattleman  who  hoped  thereby  to  pur- 
chase immunity  from  "Snow-shoe's"  activities,  which 
ho  did,  the u^^n  that  person  rustled  elsewhere  with  re- 
newed energy,  since  he  saitl  he  had  a  family  to  keep. 
So  she  learned  to  ride  and  shoot  as  straight  as  "Snow- 
shoe"  himself  and  even  as  a  child  gave  promise  of 
a  v>'insorae,  lovely  girlhood.     The  uninuo  relationship 
ended   when  her  guardian  died   in   i    ;   boots  in  the 
little  cowtown  over  beyond  the   Limestone   Rim.     A 
hard   winter  and  the  inroads  of  sheep  "broke"  the 
cattleman  who  sold  out  and  moved  away,  while  Esther 
Tisdale  shifted  for  herself  that  she  might  not  be  a 
burden.      She   was  nearly  twenty  now,   and.    in   the 
democratic  community  never  had  felt  or  been  made  to 
feel   that   her   position   was   subservient   or  inferior. 
Therefore  when  her  work  was  done  and  she  bounded 
up  the  stairs  to  Dr.  Ilarpe's  door  she  felt  sure  of  a 
welcome. 

"It's  only  Essie  Tisdale,"  she  said  in  her  merry 
voice  as  she  rapped  and  peered  into  the  room. 


66 


THE  LADY  DOC 


''Come  in,  Essie;  I'm  lonesome  as  the  d-uce!" 
It  was  some  time  later  that  Mrs.  Terriberry  sailing 
thron^^h  the  corridor  in  her  dres.sing-sa.q,.e  .uul  petti 
coat,  w.th  her  feet  scuffling  in  Mr.  Terriberry 's  carpet 
slippers,    had    the   stone-china    water-pitcher    dashed 
irom  her  hand  as  she  turned  a  comer 
"Why,  Essie!" 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Terriberry'" 
"Whars  the  matter?"     She  looked  wondoringly 
at  the  girl's  crimson  face. 

"Don't  ask  me!  but  don't  expect  me  to  be  friends 
witn  that  woman  again!" 

"Have  you  had  words-have  you  quarrelled  with 
JJr.  llarpe? 

-Yes-yes;  we  quarrelled!  But  don't  ask  me  any 
more  I  won'^-I  can't  tell  you!"  the  girl  replied 
fiercely  as  she  rushed  on  and  slammed  the  door  of 
ner  room  behind  her. 

In  her  office,  Dr.  Harpe  was  sitting  by  the  win- 
dow panic-stricken,  sick  with  the  fear  of  the  one 
thing  in  the  world  of  which  she  was  most  afraid, 
namely,  Public  Opinion. 

She  was  deaf  to  the  night  sounds  of  the  town  •  to 
the  thick,  argumentative  voices  beneath  her  window- 
to  the  scratched  phonograph  squeaking  an  ancient 
air  in  the  office  of  the  Terriberry  House:  to  the  bang- 
ing of  an  erratic  piano  in  the  saloon  two  doors  above- 
to  the  sleepy  wails  of  the  butcher's  urchin  in  the  tar- 
paper  shack  one  door  below,  and  to  a  heap  of  snarling 
dogs  fighting  in  the  deep,  white  dust  of  the  street 

She  glanced  through  the  window  and  saw  without 
seeing   the  deputy-sheriff  escorting  an  unsteadv  pris- 
oner  down  the  street  followed  hy  a  boisterous  crowd 
In  a  way  she  was  dimly  conscious  that  there  was  some- 


ANOTHER  CASE  IN  SURGERY 


g 


67 


thiiiK  raniiliar  in  the  prisoner's  appearance,  but  the 
impression  was  not  stron<?  enoufjh  to  rouse  her  from 
her  preoccupation,  and  she  turned  to  wall\  the  floor 
without  Ix-'iiit,'  co^'ni/.ant  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
walking'. 

She  suddenly  threw  both  hands  aloft. 

"I've  jjot  it!"  she  cried  exultin^ly.  "The  very- 
thing  to  counteract  her  storj-.  It'll  work — it  always 
does — and  T  know  that  I  can  do  it!" 

In  her  relief  she  lauj^hed,  a  queer,  caeklinf;  laugh 
which  came  strangely  from  the  lips  of  a  woman  barely 
thirty,  'i'hc  laughter  was  still  on  her  lips  when  a 
sound  reached  her  ears  which  killed  it  as  quickly  as 
it  came. 


Addio  ir.ia  bella  Napoli,  addio,  addio! 
La  tua  soave  imagine  chi  mai,  chi  inai  scordar  potra! 
Del   ciel   I'auzzurro  fulgido,   la  placida   marina, 
Qiial  core  non  imebria,  non  bea  non  bea  divolutta! 
In   tela   terra   el   'aura   favellano   d'amore; 
Te  sola  a1  mio  dolore  conforto  io  sognero 
Oh!    addio   mia   l>ella   Kapoli.  addio,   addio! 
Addio  care  memorie  del  tempo  ah!  che  fuggi! 


The  voice  rang  out  like  a  golden  bell,  vibrating, 
as  sweetly  penetrating.  The  strange  words  fell  like 
the  notes  of  the  meadow  lark  in  spring,  easy,  liquid, 
yet  with  the  sureness  of  knowledge. 

The  incoherent  argument  beneath  the  window 
ceased,  the  piano  and  the  phonograph  were  silenced, 
the  wailing  urchin  dried  its  tears  and  all  the  raw 
little  town  of  Crowheart  seemed  to  hold  its  breath  as 
the  wonderful  tenor  voice  rose  and  fell  on  the  soft 
June  night. 


68 


TllK  LADV  DOC 


Adieu,  „,,.  own  ,..,,  x,p„,i,  ^,j,.,,  ^^^ 

Thy   wondrous  j.ictur.-s  in  tJu'  s,..i    will     v        ,■, 

With  h..aviM^  «i^rh  and  hitt^-r  t^ar    I  l,i.i  ,.   i     . 

Adieu  the  fragrant  orange  f^r oTt\ J ^^Ll    '''■''  "  ^"'^  "^"^"•' 
of  love  «cent<'d  uir  that  l,<eathes 

im.n.o.j-,  „t  i„,,,,j.  j„j.,  ,„„„  j,^^^^j  _^^^^^^ 
The  ..1,1  slrm.t-sonft  of  Italy,  tho  son"  ,,r  ,•(«  „.     t 

bZ  ,1  "',""""  "■"■•*  ""^^  '•'■^"l'  «"«ld  have 

j::^:r;c:htr',^^^,:i--;- 

stir  remote  and  hidden  reeesses  in  n.tnr/ 

doorwiv  r>f  ...I  f  ^"^  ''■^*^  crowded  tlie 

Only  those  who  have  lived  in  i^-.inf    j     . 
-de..a„d  wh„t  ,„..ie  naZ  ,     ,       th  .  tTaft  " 
year  are  without  it.    Any  .ound  that  '.,„:  C  aet, 

2f-nthTr:-rhr;ris::: 
r..^™^  Clothe,  .„„.,  J,  ao;:r;i.revZ- 

Therefore  it  is  little  wooder  that  this  voice  of 


ANOTIIFR  CASE  IN  SURGERY 


69 


nuirvellous  sweetness  and  power  rising  un.  xpectedly 
out  of  the  moonlit  night  ahould  lay  an  .iwed  hush 
upon  the  music-starved  town.  To  some  it  brought  a 
flood  of  memories  and  lumps  in  achin:?  throats  whiln 
ma  1..  a  weather-beaun  face  "vas  lifted  from  m.;di- 
ocfity  by  a  momentary  exultation  that  wa.s  of  the 
soul. 

That  a  human  voice  unaided  by  a  visible  person- 
ality could  throw  such  a  sp»ll  upon  the  listeners  seems 
rather  a  tax  upon  credulity;  but  th<  singer  hims'lf 
appeared  to  have  no  misgivings.  His  face  wore  a 
look  of  smiling,  mocking  confideuce  as  he  stooci  with 
one  hand  on  his  hip.  the  otl.r  grasping  a  bar  of  the 
iron  grating  which  covered  the  single  window  of 
Crowhf-art's  calaboose,  pouring  forth  the  golden  notes 
with  an  occasional  imperious  toss  of  his  heail  and  a 
flash  of  his  black  eyes  which  made  him  look  like  a 
royal  prisoner 

When  the  last  note  aad  died  away,  Dr.  Ilarpe 
breathr  1  an  ejaculation. 

"Tue  1    igo  Duke!" 

"He  sings  ike  an  angel,"  said  "Slivers,"  a  bar- 
keep. 

"And  fights  like  a  devil,"  replied  Dan  Treu,  the 
deputy- sheriff.  "He  turned  a  knife  in  Tinhorn's 
shoulder." 


ii 


VI 

"Tm;  CiHRcii  Hackkt" 
Dr.  IlARrR  w.nt  .lownstnirs  tho  next  mnrninfr  with 

Ws,ra,.,tnppeM,,s.n.M..<lnMl..s...,snnl.^ 
v^^.u.h  Hi.,.  „...t   Hc.n.si.s.     "  Hank "  '|Vrnl,..rrv  pass,..! 

watclicd  liiiu  hrcatlik'ssly. 

"Mornin  •,!)..."     H."  no.M.l  in  fnV,HlIy  non.-ha- 
lie  kri.'w  notliiiif,'  of  tlic  (|uarn-I  ! 

'■^^■''if-t'nnHU.,  Mr.  T..mh..rry/'.sl,,.  ..all..,|.  ;nul 
he  ■stoppe.i.  ...Say,  what  ..Inuvh  .I-  you  l,..|.,n.^  t..? 
What  are  you?" 

Mr.  Terriberry  suffered  from  pyorrhea,  an.l  ,he 
row  of  upper  teeth  whieh  he  now  .lisph.ve.l  in  a  .^enial 
gm  looked  like  a  gardeu-rake,  due  to' hi.  shrilling 

Whyr'^  ''  ^''^'^^'^^'•'^^'  ^^^''  ^"t  I  Jon't  work  «t  it. 

"Let's  set  together  and  buikl  a  ehureh.     I'll  .., 
around  w,th  a  sub.seriptiou  paper  myself  and  raise  the 
money.     I  fed  lost  without  a  ehureh,  1  honesfly  do 
its  downright  heathenish." 

"That's    so,"    Mr.    Terriberry    agree,]    heartily, 
there  s    somethin,.    damned     respeetable     about    a 
ehureh.     It  makes  a  good  impression  upon  strangers 
to  eome  into  a  to^^•n  and  hear  a  ehureh  bell  rin^^n' 

her  shoulder  approvingly,  "you're  a  rough  diamond- 
you  can  put  me  down  for  $50  " 

When  Mr.  Terriberry  had  gone  his  pious  way, 

70 


"Tin:  rfri'Hcir  rackkt" 


71 


Dr.  llarpc  nnuU-d  and  roitoratnl  montally:  "There's 
nothiiii,'  uk.'  the  c-hurch  racket;  it  always  works.  ' 

Sh.-  \tnHsvn  uii  iuto  the  «lininK'  rnom  when-  the 
DaK'o  Duke  who  had  Hiintj  liimself  out  of  the  cala- 
boose spranu  to  his  feet  and.  laying'  his  hand  upon 
hLs  heart,  U)wed  h)w  in  u  burles(iucd  how  of  deference. 
"A  tribute  to  your  skill  nnd  learning,  madam." 
Shi-  stared  at  him  stonily  and  his  white  teeth 
flashr.l. 

How  she  hated  hini!  yet  shf  felt  helpless  befor-' 
his  imptidenee  and  audacity.  Ur  had  "presence," 
poise,  and  she  knew  instinctively  that  to  whatever 
Iciitrths  she  mi^'ht  p)  in  retaliation  he  would  go  fur- 
ther. Sh<'  would  only  bring  upon  herself  di.scomfiture 
by  sucli  a  course.  She  knew  that  she  had  forfeited 
his  respect;  more  than  that,  she  felt  that  she  had 
incurred  a  (h'cp  and  lasting  enmity  which  seemed 
to  her  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  cause. 

H:s  horseback  eonipauion  of  the  previous  day  was 
breakfasting  beside  him  and  she  found  the  young 
man's  cold,  impersonal  scrutiny  as  hard  to  bear  as 
the  Dago  Duke's  frank  impudence  as  she  swaggered 
to  her  seat  at  the  end  of  the  long  dining-room  and 
faced  them.  He  Wius  as  different  in  his  way  from 
the  men  about  him  as  the  Dago  Duke,  yet  he  differed, 
too,  from  that  conspicuous  person.  He  seemed  self^ 
contained,  reserved  to  the  point  of  reticence,  but  with 
a  (piiet  a-ssurance  of  manner  as  pronounced  as  the 
other's  effrontery.  He  was  dressed  in  a  blue  flannel 
shirt  and  worn  corduroys.  His  face  was  tanned  but 
It  was  the  sunburned  face  of  an  invalid.  There  were 
hollows  in  his  cheeks  and  a  tired  look  in  his  gray 
<^.ves.  Having  critically  examined  her,  Di.  Harpe 
•••-%.ji  vr;;  iimi  Hr  »eeiiied  lu  lorget  her. 


72 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Essie  Tisdalo  passed  her  without  a  glance  but 
Mrs  Terr.berr>'  came  behind  with  the  b?  akfast  of 
fned  potatoes  and   the   thin,   fVied   iH.eist.rk  Iftho 

Th    Wif '       T'  '•''''  ^"  '"  '''''''  ^'-"  -hieh  menu 
"I'm  sorry  you  and  Essie  fell  out,"  said  Mrs 

on  you  ''  '''°^  ^^^"^  ^^^  ^°  °<^t  ^^iti^' 

Dr  Harpe  dropped  h.^r  eyes  for  an  instant. 
It  s  up  to  her." 

"She's  as  f^ood-natured  as  anybody  I  ever  saw 
but  she  s  lu.h-strun,^,  too;  she's  got  a  tamper." 
Dr.  Ilarpe  lifted  a  shoulder 

evo:^:;;:'::::';::;;:- ''■''■"''''"'' ''■«""^™"'*^. 

.man'T' •^"•^'  ''  "  "'="■">•  "-"'-^   "-t  in  a 

T..rriWn.v  ''Y'' }'!'" r"^'^'  »="."  «t«rnod  Mrs. 
itrniKirx,  nettled  by  her  tone 

desi^e^'to^fnt^V'"'^'^';^  ^-od-naturedly ;  .he  had  no 
uesire  to  anta-ronize  Mrs.  Terriberry 

iinKor  a.  E.s.0  placci  the  heavy  hotel  dishes  before 

fragilf  ,:":/"'■,''?,'•'  ''Z  '™' '"  »»'  «>  "i*  this 
iid^iie  waie.     As  a  lover  of  cer-^nV  otw^    u  u 

pain  me  to  see  it  injure,!."  '  "  """'"^ 

■  , ''''"',  ?;,'■'  dimpleJ,  an.1,  in  spite  of  herself  biir^t 
.nto  a  tr,ll  of  ,a„gh.er  „l,iel,  „,.  ,„  „,ern     „d  eon 
<a..o„s  that  the  ,r.ve  stranger  beside  hit^'irked Tp 


"THE  CHURCH  RACKET" 


78 


at  her  with  an  interested  and  amused  smile  as  though 
seeinpr  her  for  the  first  time. 

"Breakfastinj,'  at  the  Terriberry  House  was  a 
pleasure  which  seemed  a  lonj?  way  off  last  night," 
observed  the  Da,'!:o  Duke  without  embarrassment. 
"You  heard  the  imprisoned  bird  singing  lor  his  lib- 
erty? iVIusie  to  soothe  the  savage  breast  of  your 
sherifl'.  When  I  am  myself  I  can  converse  in  five 
languages;  when  I  am  drunk  it  is  my  misfortune  to 
be  able  only  to  sing  or  holler.  Your  jail  is  a  disgrace 
to  Crowheart;  I've  never  been  in  a  worse  one.  The 
mattress  is  lumpy  and  the  pillow  hard ;  I  was  voicing 
my  protest." 

"I  don't  care  why  you  sing  so  long  as  you  sing," 
said  Essie,  dimpling  again.  "It  was  beautiful,  but 
isn  't  it  bad  for  your  health  to  get  so— drunk  ? ' ' 

"Not  at  all,"  returned  the  Dago  Duke  airily. 
"Look  at  me— fresh  as  a  rock-rose  with  the  dew- 
on  it!" 

Again  the  grave  stranger  smiled  but  rather  at 
Essie  Tisdale's  laughter  than  his  companion's  brazen 
humor. 

He  interested  Dr.  Ilarpe,  this  oiher  stranger,  and 
as  soon  as  her  breakfast  was  finished  she  looked  for 
his  name  upon  the  register. 

"Ogden  Van  Lennop,"  she  read,  and  his  address 
was  a  little  town  in  the  county.  She  shook  her  head 
and  said  to  herself:  "He  never  came  from  this  neck 
of  the  woods.    Another  black  sheep,  I  wonder?" 

Dr.  Ilarpe  lost  no  time  in  agitating  the  subject 
^f  a  chiireh  and  it  tickled  Crowheart 's  risibilities, 
since  she  was  the  last  person  to  be  suspected  of  spirit- 
ual ycnrnings— ner  personality  seeming  incongruous 
vzith  religious  fervor.    But  while  they  laughed  it  was 


74 


THE  LADY  DOC 


»> 


with  good-nature  and  aDnrovfll    f«^   ■. 

«™.d  .1.™.  i„  .,e.  ,.,„„rs  X : , "™  l;t 

l-art  underneath  her  hluu,  i  r  '  i,;":'  ''"",  ° 

<>^  "n>   inhabitant  uas  one  of  the  stock   ;,.!-,..     e  .. 
;o»;n.  yot  it  wa«  never  ur,od  „,ai  ,ttr    At^:  ,   "! 
had  come  to  be  pointed  out  to  It.  Already  she 

ajrectionate  pril  ra^^lX^-f  ;'.;^,;;^™'';/ 
She  had  a  stron..  attraction  f„r  the  wle  ,  „?? 

kad  ,0.  fear  <f rnht^O  ■  ,r  ,:"i;'T""  ''? 

when,  it  wa.  al.a,,  .  men'aoin^j.'i^^..^/^,""^"^  '» 

She  returned  at  the  end  of  lh»  day  tlr^^  t,  , 
<ent  ,n  the  la,owled»e  that  he,    .mfrt"     ad  ,^    ™°; 
eiaetly  the  offeet  she  ch.sirod     Sh     ,    ,  l"       "'' 

ffloney  to  i„s„re  the    -re     „n„f  f    ';'*'' "'''''* 

break  between  them  ''  mysterious 


"  THE  CHURCH  RACKET  "  76 

to  other  than  her  own  efforts  were  eonspirinfj  to  elimi. 
nate  the  girl  as  a  dangerous  faetor  in  her  life. 

She  retired  early  and,  eonsequently,  was  in  igno- 
ranee  of  the  reeeipt  of  a  telegram  by  Sylvanus  Starr 
announcing  the  return  of  Andy  P.  Symes  and  the 
complete  sueeess  of  his  eastern  mission.  So  when  she 
was  awakened  the  next  morning  by  a  conflict  of 
sounds  which  resembled  th,'  efforts  of  a  Chinese  orches- 
tra and  raised  the  .shade  to  see  the  newly  organized 
Cowboy  band  making  superhuman  .mdeavors  tcrmareh 
and  yet  produce  a  sufficiently  correct  number  of  notes 
from  the  score  of  "A  Hot  Time  in  the  0>J  Town"  to 
make  that  American  warcry  recognizable,  she  knew 
that  something  unusual  had  developed  in  the  interim 
of  her  long  sleep. 

It  was  like  Andy  P.  Symos  to  .  nnounee  his  coming 
that  he  might  extract  all  the  glory  possible  from  his 
arrival  and  he  knew  that  he  could  depend  upon 
Sylvanus  Starr  to  make  the  most  of  the  occasion. 

The  editor  i.ssued  an  "Extra"  of  dodger-like 
appearance,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  have  us-d 
larger  type  to  announce  an  anticipated  visit  of  the 
President.  lie  called  upon  every  citizen  with  a  spark 
of  civic  pride  to  turn  out  and  give  Andy  P.  Symes 
a  fitting  welcome ;  to  do  homage  to  the  man  wiio  was 
to  Crowheart  what  the  patron  saints  nre  to  the  cities 
of  the  Old  World. 

The  matutinal  "Hot  Time  in  the  Old  Town" 
and  a  majority  of  the  population  waiting  on  the  cin- 
ders about  the  red  water  tank  were  the  result,s  of  hi.s 
impassioned  plea. 

Tears  of  gratified  vanity  stood  in  the  eyes  of  Andy 
P.  SjTnes  as  from  the  front  ])latform  of  the  passenger 
coach  he  saw  bis  neighbors  assembled  to  greet  him. 


76 


THE  LADY  DOC 


I  soomod  an  emiruMtl^  fittin.  and  proper  tributo  to 
tho  ..reaH^ran.lsc.n  of  the  „.an  vvh.,  had  bo,  a  a  Ir- 
sonar..,  ,,•  Alexander  Hamilton 's.  He  Z;, 
IH  ^u■I.•o,^m.  thron-^  throu,di  misty  .vos  as  with 
an  pnt.ro  approbation  of  the  imposin-^  ti^.^uro  ho  nn 

ak.u.  the  ,-„„d,„,.  „f  ,„„  ear.wheol.  > a  tho  r„».y 

S.vlvam.s  Starr  nilh  many  swooping.  ...,t.    ,■,  ot 
a  hami  w.„ch  .,u.,.™,e,l  „  prchon.,!!,,  weM-h.K    I  e Lw 

«Mth  adjo„t,vos  wl,i,.„  ,,„„„,  ,,,„„  „i„  ,„_„  ^  f    - 

Hi..p.     AM„I,.  Sy,„„s  „,„j.  ,,„^.„  ,.,„  „, 

R  .n^>  ,    rathor  s.ron.  whc,  „o  o„n,paroj  .,i„,  ,„ 

IWiir,,!   Mr.    Symcs.   „.i,|,..„y,,,   „,„, 
ra,,.,„r™„,  „      ,y  pa.,  rooo^nition  „y  a  hob     /s 
and      k„,„„a  •  sloov™,  stood  Mr..   Sym™  with  tho 

from  hoins  tho  „ifo  „f  „  j,,,„i  „„„ 

In  contrast  to  Sylva„„s  Starr's  Ih.oney  Svmos', 

<1.  r,..,y  ,„  „npr,..s..iv™c.«H.    Whon  ho  olonch,,!  hi^  hu 
fi     and  .strode  at  the  air,  d,...h,ri„.  r„r  ,h,.  third     ,;„ 

And  thoy  „o,.d  not  havo  do„l„o,l  him,  for,  ,uk.  hi 
"larv  .l,d  „„t  W..i„  „„,il  his  r,.tur„  to  Crowhoa    \„d 
tho  ofK.r,n..s  of  ni«ht.|u„ch  car,.,  arc  ta.,i„,M?n„a  the 
d.gest,on,  n  was  indeed  "good  ,„  ho  hotn.- "'^ 


VII 

The  Sheep  from  the  Goats 

Andv  p.  Symes  (locidod  to  emphasize  further  his 
roturn  to  Crovvheart  by  issiiinf?  invitations  for  a  din- 
ner to  be  given  in  the  Terriberry  House,  reserving,'  the 
announeement  of  his  future  plans  for  this  occasion ; 
and.  although  Crowheart  did  not  realize  it  at  the 
timi  .  this  dinner  was  an  ej^och-making  function.  It 
vas  not  until  the  printed  invitations  worded  with  such 
eleganee  by  Sylvanus  Starr  were  issued,  that  Crow- 
heart  dimly  suspected  there  were  f:heep  and  gonts, 
and  this  was  -the  initial  step  toward  separating  them! 

The  making  up  of  a  social  list  in  any  frontier 
town  is  not  without  its  puzzling  feaUires  and  .Mr. 
Symes  in  this  instance  found  it  particularly  diflficult 
once  he  began  to  discriminate. 

First  there  came  the  awkward  question  of  his  rela- 
lives  by  marriage.  At  first  glance  it  would  have 
seemed  rather  necessary  t..  head  the  list  with  Grand- 
mother Kiinkei,  but  the  fact  that  she  was  also  the 
hotel  laundress  at  the  time  made  it  a  subject  for 
dehfif,..  Once,  just  one(%  he  was  willin,';  to  test  the 
social  possibiliti.^s  of  his  b.'other-in-law,  so  Svmes 
magnanimously  gave  him  his  chance  and  the  name  of 
Adolph   K    nkel  headed  the  list. 

The  Percy  P;trrotts,  of  course,  went  through  the 
sieve,  and  the  Sta-rs,  and  Dr.  Emma  Ilarpe,  but 
there  was  the  <'mbarrassing  question  of  Mrs.  Alva 
Jackson  who  had  but  lately  sold  her  dance  hall,  good- 
will, and  fixtures,  to  marry  Alva  Jackson,  a  pros- 
perous cattleman— too  prosperous.  Mr.  Symes  finally 

77 


.f'\mi.k 


78 


THE  LADY  DoC 


decided,    to    ipmcro.      Would    th..    ., 
sprightly  Faro  Noll  .Wvo.^n.  ■^'''''"''    "^    ^^e 

occasion  or  lower  tln^  r\  ?' .^^'^^^y  to  the 
T>nI>ois  In-  indu.v  t>  ■  ^^•''''  ^■'^•''  oW  i-^dou.rd 
Thedairvoyani;^:;:i:^'"V'-'^   ''•'--,..,. 

who  no  longer  sat  ,lrn     ■'  n       '^'"''"    ^^'■'^"'^''" 

fl-red  saloon   f .     ,   i   1  ';  '";'  -^'  ^""'-^  '"  ^^'s  <l.rt- 

^-,  went  down  „:^:;^:L-•^^^^f^^w 

citizens  of  OrouliPTt  I         •       ,        ^^^'- -"ihodes,"  the 
time  when    t "       . ".     ':;:';;"'-'  '"»  ■""""  f-  <l.o  «r.t 

Sv-mes  shook  his  head. 

in  f'l^^  '''"'■'  ""^^''^^y  ""^•'1","  -'nsistod  Mr«   Q 

m  feeble  protest-  "shn'c  ni  '"■^'■^'<'u  Mrs.  Symes 

at  dances  and  ?hi„^*':  '  "'"'''  "«"  ^o  -!«  to  „e 

invite  ivirpe^niT'^V"''''"*'™"-'-' "«  -  -t 

you  ever  uuSllt^"'""^'''  "'"'  ">  "^-    Won', 
somewhere?''  '"""■''•^'  ""^'  J"-"-  'ho  line 

time""  '^"  ""-"'-J  '"-  "ew  .i„„,M  ,  ,„„^ 

the™;:  *;™:^'-;t,:;!/- -'  -<'  •>.»  -w,  „f 

versation.    The   fao     .  n     ,T      r  """'  """"  •"  ">"■ 
instead  of  tweK.„„-,„  '",'"■  ''"'".-  --'  at  sc.™ 

--ha„den.htedaMh:t,ht:;Tt'r:rc 


THE  SHEEP  FROM  THE  GOATS        79 

of  acerbity  was  notioeahle  i„  tho  comments  of  those 
\vho  were  unaceu.^omed  to  the  sensation  of  heinf? 
exclude,!,  among  them  Mrs.  Abe  Tutts,  whase  quick 
recogn.t.on  of  sli^^hts  led  one  to  believ,.  she  had 
received  a  great  many  of  them.  Mrs.  Tutts,  who  was 
personally  distasteful  to  Mr.  Symes,  went  so  far  as 
to  HHiu.re  belligerently  of  Mre.  Symes  why  she  had 
not  been  invited. 

,u'\  '^';?!.*  I'"''''''-"  '^'"'^'^'^'^^  ^ff«-  Symes  who  was 
S.11  truthful  rath.,,  than  tactful,  -'but  111  ask 
1  hidias.  ' 

"You  find  out  and  lemme  know,"  said  Mrs  Tutts 
menacingly.  -They  can't  nobody  in  this  town  hand 
me  nothin  !" 

Since  Mrs.  Tutts  s  sensitiveness  appeared  always 
to  show  Itself  in  a  desire  to  do  the  ofTender  bodily 
harm,  Andy  P.  Symes  took  care  not  to  commit  himself 

(  nt.l  the  very  last  Essie  Tisdale  could  not  believe 
that  she  had  been  intentionariy  omitted.  She  wa.s 
among  the  first  thought  of  when  any  gathering  wa3 
planned  and  in  her  naive  way  was  a.  sure  of  her 
popu  anty  as  Symes  himself,  so  she  had  pressed  the 
unnkles  from  her  simple  gown  and  cleaned  once  more 

treVures  '''"^  "'"'  """  ^""^^'  '''''  ^^^^^^^ 
As  a  matter  of  course  Mrs.  Terriberrv  had  en- 
gaged  other  help  for  the  occasion  and  alfthe  after- 
no.>n  of  the  day  set  Essie  Tisdale  waited  for  the  tardy 
mv.tat.on  which  .she  told  herself  was  an  oversight 

m<    bt.d  to  her  for  more  good  tirne^  than  she  ever  bad 
had^iii  her  uneventful!^ 

came,  so  when  the  houi-  had  arrived  for  her  to  ^.o 


80 


THE  LADV   DOC 


below  sho  hMHs:  hor  ohoap  little  IVoek  upon  its  nail 
and  n.plac.1  tlu-  ..h.rishod  slippers  in  their  box.  In.r 
m..l  l.e.vy  ,.e.,.te,|  and  .till  uMau.,-e  that  the  ,lay 
when  she  ha,ltripp,.,l  u,  th.  n.  as  the  acknowlod.ed 
'f ".;'  <'n>wheart  was  done  a.-d  Ih.-  old  regime  of 
Chanty  and  demneratie.  unpretentious  hospdalitv  was 
gone  iU!vor  to  return.  * 

IIcT  shapely  h(>ad  was  envt  an.l  her  ,.ve.s  hri^ht 
-U.     he  pan.  ot  ,...t  pri.le  uh.-n  she  laH.Ked  upon 

laee  throu-:h  the  crack. 

"You   needr.'t   ^et  anyone  to  take  nn-   place  to^ 
night,     .she  said  bravely,  "I'm  not  invited  '• 

' '  ^\  hat ! ' ' 

lool-ed  lit'   '''''''' r^'""''   ^^'--    'i-riborr>-s  mouth 
looked  like  a  erack  in  a  glacier. 

Essie   Tisdale  shook   her  h.'ad 

-Come  in  "    M.-s.  Terriberry 'sank  upon  the  bed 
.hieh    sa,,ed       ke    a    hammock    with    Lr    weight 
VUiat  do  you   'spoae  is  the  reason?" 

"1  haven -t  the  least  i.lea  in  the  world  "     Essie's 
chin  quiverc;  in  .spite  of  hor. 

"For  half  a  cent  I  wouldn",  l)U(i-e!"    .Mrs   Terrf 
berry  shook  a  warlike  eoiffure.    "Folks  like  that  ou^ht 
to  be  learned  something  "  " 

Oh,  yes,  you  must  j.-o." 

bou   the,    act;   I  don  t  expect  to  .njoy  mvself  a  bit 
after  hearin'  Ihis.     IVe  lost  interest  in  it  " 

Mrs.   lerriberry  be^^an  to  manipulate  a  pair  of  curlin^ 
tongs  which  had  been  heatinf?  in  the  lamp 

A  sizzling  sound  followed  and  a  cloud  of  smoke 
rose  in  the  air. 


<  ( 


ht 
)n 

a- 


THE  SHEEP  FROM  THE  GOATS 


81 


'There 


I've     burnt    ofT    my    scolilin'    1 


Mrs.    Terriberry    viewer!    the    dam 
I'm  just  so  upset   I 


)eks," 
laso    witli    dismay. 


Essie,  if  you  don't  want  to 


"pset   I  don't  know  what   I'm   doin 


'I  won't  mincj 


wait  on  'em  you  needn  't. 


iiUK'h— after  the  first.     It 


hard  at  first.     Thank  you,  though 


will  be 


If  I 


»'ver  ju'it  rue  another 


ins  ,'    i);(nte<l  Mrs.  Terriberry 


holt  and  lay  ba-k 


o 


'n  th 


pair  of  these  'pineh- 
'you'U  know  it.    Take 


lom  strings,  will  you?     Th. 


.  — ^...  ....,Mg.,    Win  you  '     Thev 

got  to  e„me  cl>»,„r  .l.a„  that  or  .h»t  «kirt  won't  mZ 

came  in  .Mrs.    lerriberry's  bul'nn<»  eve«      <'t  *i 

I  wt  »,.„o,„i„. ,....  L,.  „t-':eiz-t .  Le'ri' 

to  cave  a  rib  in  sometimes  " 
"More?" 

hitnl'Ti"^'-/^'''  *'"'"^'  ^'^'''  "^^^^  "^^^t  if  I  have  to 
hitch  the    bus  team  onto    em  " 

satin^'w-'"';  '''\'''''''y  ^-'^^^^  ■•"  a  steel-colored 

d     ctly  bSnea:;:  I      ''  ^'"'"^'"  ^^^^^^^^  ^«  «tart 
a.rectl>   beneath  her  ears,  and  iier  hands  were  not 

only  purple,  but  slightly  numb. 
"How  do  I  look,  child?" 

How    do    VOU    feel*'''    id- ,  1    T" 

...  „  '   "  ^'^"-     ^^^^''^  Kssie  eva.sively 

As    well    as   anybody   could    with    their   in 'pr^. 

«l"i:-«'.vo;tin-   f     "t"    ^"  ''°'""'  ''""''   '""'h  fire 
n„^.     »■  '  "■  '  ""■«  »""■•'  ">  slide  these  slin 

"^  mough  to  git  some  good  out  of  it  " 
che^k  wX'""''  "™^"  '""  "^"^'^'"^  ^'--i  her 
"K^op  a  stiir  „ppor  lip.  E«ie,  don't  let  them  see. " 


«  THK  LADV  DOC 

"I  ran  do  that."  the  pirl  rcplio.l  proudly 
Innovations  an.  nearly  always  attcnch.l  'hy  diffi- 
culties and  embarrassmonts  buL  even  An.iy  I'  Svinos 
had  not  anti<.ii,atod  that  his  effort  to  esta!,lish  a  local 
an.sto,-ra,.y  would  .nlail  .so  many  awkward  momonts 
and  paint  id  situations. 

If  th,.  printed  invitations  and  the  unusual  hour 

had  filled  his  f^Miests  with  awe,  the  formalities  of  the 

dinner  it.self  had  the  .aWt  of  temporarily  paralvzin,^ 

heir  faeulties.     In  lieu  of  the  merry  scramble  eharac- 

of'fn  ''Sr'T'''  ''"*"''^'''^-  ^here  was  a  kind 
of  a  Death  Mareh  into  the  diniuir-room  from  which 
Mr  lernberry  had  unceremoniously  "fanned"  the 
regular  boarder.^ 

The   procession   was  headed   by  Andv  P.   Symes 
bearin.   Mr.s    Starr,   titterin,  hysterically,   upon   his 
arm.     Mrs.   Symes  s  newly  acquired  savoir-fairr   de- 
sorted   her;   her  hands  grew  .-lammy  and   Svlvanus 
Marrs   desperate    conversational    efforts    evoked    no 
other  response  than  "Yes.  sir-Xo,  sir."     ^Ws   Tern- 
berry    red  and  ilustered.  found  herself  engaged  in  a 
wrestling  match  with  l:ttle  Alva  Jackson,  whic^h  lasted 
all  the  way  from  the  door  of  the  dining-room  to  the 
long  table  at  the  end.     Mr.  Jaek.son  in  his  panic  wa 
determined  to  take  Mrs.   Terriberrys  arm    where  s 
she  _wa.s  dually  <letennined  that  she  ..,.,„,j  t.ke  his 
having  furtively  observed  her  host  gallantlv  oifcrin.: 
support  to  Mrs.  Starr.  '    '  "«-nn„ 

A  sure  indication  of  the  importance  attached  to 
the  afhur  was  the  number  of  new  boots  an.l  shoes 
pnrchascd  for  the  occa.sion.  .X.,.,  thick Jud': 
trous.  ■"  the  frozen  .silence  of  the  pi-oc...ssion.  "these 
boot.s  and  shoes  clumping  across  the  bare  floor  called 
attention    to   themselves   in    voices    which    seemed    to 


Tllh  SHKl.:i»   FROM  'illE  GOATS        Hti 

shriek  niul  u.ih  th..  M..,„li.shn,.ss  of  innnimnto  obWts 
sor,.a,M..l  thr.  Iou.Kt  at  th.lr  ..un.rs'  .mm-.tIv  st.ps 
A  tuM.tu.r.  of  the  Comrnnne  vvhe„  Ma.lam,.  (iuillotine 
VroHuU'd  must  have  be,.,,  a  frothy  a,„l  frivolous  affair 
compar.'.I  to  the  hefri„„ini,'  of  this  dinner 

A.lnl,,h  K„„k..l.  who  ha.l  attache,!  himself  to  Dr 
Ilarpe  t..  the  ..xtenl  of  uall:i„^.  within  fo„r  feet  of 
her  sHle.  darted  from  lu.e  an.I  pnll.d  ont  the  nearest 
cha,r  at  th,  tal.l...  Oh.se,-vinj:  too  h.te  that  the  other 
Pni-'sts  were  still  .standin,^  he  spranc,  to  his  feet  and 
boked  ^ymy  abont  to  see  if  he  had  been  noticed. 
lU'  yid.  A  va  Jaekson  covered  his  month  with  his 
liandkerehiet  and  iriir^ded. 

There  was  a  In.zen  smih^  upon  the  faces  of  the 
Iad.es  who,  s.ttinc:  bolt  upriirht.  twisted  their  finders 
""/'"'•  the  kindly  shelter  of  the  table-cloth  iLh 
tnv.al  (Observation,  humoro,is  or  otherwise  was 
greeted  w,tl,  a  bn.-st  of  la„.d,te,.  and  the  pc.,-s,m  brave 
enon.d.  to  venture  a  ,v,na,-k  sce,M..d  i.nmediatelv 
appalled  by  the  sound  of  his  own  voice.  Adolph 
Ku,.kel  to  show  that  he  wa.s  pe,-fectly  at  ease, 
yawned  ""'"   ""''''"'^  ^'''  "^''^'i'bor's  cha,r  and 

In  spite  of  the  efforts  which  brou?hf  beads  of 
perspn^fon  ou,  ,.n  the  b.-oad  foi-ehead  of  their  host, 
Essie  1  ,sdale  appeared  with  the  first  course  mid  a 
gnastly  silence. 

"I  hanlly  ever  drink  tea,"  observed  Mr.  Rhodes, 
fur  the  purpose.  me,-ely.  of  making  conversation. 

lion"     ^;!;^^*"•I'  '''"^'"''  ^^^^  ''"''  *^^«'  it's  bul. 
•on         Mrs.   Ternberry's  loud  whisper  was  heard  the 

en.  ho    the  table  as  she  to.  the  su.ar  bow.  fro.  his 

e  d  '"'  "■""""  """"  '•"  '"*^'-  '''  ''''■  Rhodes 

^Ju.uix    h.d  sweet,.ned  his  coasomme. 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and   ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2, 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


28 


14^ 

if       1^ 


1.4 


III  2.5 
II  2.2 

II  2.0 
1.8 

1.6 


A     ^^PPLIED  IM/^GE     Ir 


1653    East    Mom    Sl.eel 

Rochester.    New   York         14609       USA 

(716)    482  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)   288  -  5989  -  F-,, 


84 


THE  LADY  DOC 


The  frucsts  displayed  th^,-  taot  by  nssumin-  a 
wooden  expression,  and  turning?  their  heads  a^ay 
secretly  reheved  that  thoy  had  not  committed  the 
fan,  pas  themselves.  Only  Alva  Jackson  stared  at 
iur.^  Rhodes  s  embarrassment  in  unconcerned  deli-ht 
Symes  *  ^"""  ^'"^  ^''"^^''''  "'^''"  «"g^'^sted  Mr. 

"Oh  no!  not  at  all;  I  take  sweetcnin'  in  every- 
thm?,     declared  .Air.  Rhoiles. 

There  ^vas  a  distinct  relaxation  of  tension  all 
around  when  Andy  1>.  Symes  took  the  initiative  in  the 
matter  of  spoons. 

"This  here  soup  make.s  me  think  of  the  tim.^  I 
had  mountain  fever  and  et  it  stiddy  for  three  weeks." 
Ado  ph  Kunke  whispered  the  reminiscence  behind 
the  back  ol  his  hand. 

"My  rcMl   favorite  is  bean  soup,"  admitted  Mr 

Ternberry,  ami  Mrs.  Terriberry  looked  mortified  at 

this  confession  of  her  hasbands  vulgar  preferences. 

Its    very    nourishing,"    declared    Mrs.    Sta-r 

tremuhmsly.  '-'.d^r 

Mr^p""^  'If''""''  ^'''  ''^''''  P'^'P'^^y  served." 
Mr  .1  ercy  Parrott  curled  her  little  finger  elegantly 
ana  toyed  with  a  spoon.  ^ 

"It's  a  pretty  good  article  in  camp,"  said  Mr 
bj-mes  desperately  to  keep  the  ball  rollin- 

The  guests  shrieked  with  mirthless  lauditer  at  the 
suggestion  of  rough  camp  life. 

"Gosh!  me  and  Gus  was  weaned  and  raised  on 
bean     soup     and     liverwurst,"     interjected     Adolph 

sm  t    T      :     '  r"''"'  ''••""^•^^^'  ""^^  '--ediatelv 
squirmed   under   Mrs.   Symes's   blazing   eyes      "Of 

course, "  he  added  lamely,  "we  et  other  thin."    too- 
mush  and  headcheese."  "  ' 


THE  SHEEP  FROM  THE  GOATS 


85 


Dnrinp:  these  trying  moments  Dr.  Harpe  settled 
back  in  her  ehair  with  folded  arms  regarding  the 
scene  with  the  impersonal  amusement  with  which  she 
would  have  sat  through  a  staged  comedy.  No  sense 
of  obligation  toward  her  host  and  hostess  impelled 
her  to  do  her  share  toward  lessening  the  strain,  and 
Andy  P.  Symes  felt  a  growing  irritation  at  the  faint 
smile  of  superiority  upon  her  face.  She  was  the  one 
perso::  present  who  might  '  /e  helped  him  through 
the  uncomfortable  affair. 

Formality  was  the  keynote  of  the  occasion.  Ladieg 
who  had  been  at  each  other's  back  door  a  few  hours 
previous  borrowing  starch  or  sugar  now  addressed 
each  other  in  strained  and  distant  tones  while  the  men 
were  frankly  dumb.  It  was  a  relief  to  everybody 
when  a  heaping  platter  of  fried  chicken  appeared 
upon  the  table  followed  by  mounds  of  mashed  potatoes 
and  giblet  gravy  which  made  the  guests'  eyes  gleam 
like  bird-dogf3  gaunt  from  a  run. 

Fried  chicken  is  only  fried  chicken  to  those  who 
dwell  in  the  country  where  chickens  scratch  in  every 
backyard,  but  to  those  who  dwell  where  they  reckon 
time  from  the  occasion  when  they  last  ate  an  egg, 
fried  chicken  bears  the  same  relation  to  other  food 
that  nightingales'  tongues  bore  to  other  dishes  at 
epicurean  Roman  feasts.  As  a  further  evidence  of 
Symes 's  prodigality  there  was  champagne  in  hollow- 
Etemmed  glasses  brought  from  the  East. 

It  was  a  glorious  feast  with  cold  storage  chicken 
expressed  from  the  [Main  Line  and  potatoes  freighted 
up  from  the  Mormon  settlement  a  hundred  miles 
below. 

"It's  a  durn  shame."  said  Adolph  Kunkel  as  he 
surreptitiously   removed  an  olive,   "that  the   plums 


86 


'i ME  LADY  DOC 


j-pnod,;or, his.  the  best  supper  I  ever  flopped  my 
►Syines  .suppressed  a  pronn 
Km-h  ,M.est  devoted  himself  to  his  foo.l   with  an 

doubt  .  s  o  h,s  enjoym.ut.  .nd  th.  eti'ort  of  nkl 
Edouard  ]  ubo.s  to  scrape  the  h.st  vesti.e  of  potato 
W  h,s  p  .„.  brought  out  a  .su..estion  fn.,a  A  ,ph 
Kunke    to  leave  the  ,ilt  d,.si,.,  .,„  the  bot,.,n,      \    d 

^iHst..   Ult  that   a   r.u-   and    valuable   .'xperieuee   u-«. 
'"■"i^'a,ld<.d  to  their  !iv..s.  I^'icuct   ua.s 

"Holy    su.oke-but    thafs    stout !-    hinte<l     Mr 
remberry  after  looking  the  table  over  for  th.   eusto 
mary  p.teher  of  tinned  nnik.     Jiut  before  M      Svn  e" 
could    aet    upon    the    hint    his    brother-in-law's      v 
;^au     o  water  and  bulge.      He  groped  for  his  ,  a       " 
;^  '^     -  compressed   his   lips   in   an    l,ero,e   effort  to 
majn  the  hot  and  bitter  colt'ee,  but  instea.l  he  grabbed 
tl^''  hnn,nn,  edge  of  the  t;.ble-el.>th.     His  pitiful     v's 
-uv    hxc^    „p...    „,.    ..,,,„^    a.s.pprov,ng    f     .^^ 
Audy  P   Symes,  but  there  is  a  lin.it  to  huuLn    ndur 
anee  and  Adolph  Kunkel  ,niekly  reaehed  it      S^ I 
taneous  w.th  a  spurt  of  cotfee  Adolph  rose  and  fl  d' 
^-t  n.g  h,s  ehair  as  he   went,  disgraeed   upl   ht 
oiii.N   appeararuv  „,  that  exelasive  set  fron,  whieh  le 
was  henceforth  and  forever  barred 

lie  coughed  significantly  under  the  window  to  re 
m.nd,rr  Symes  that  he  nnght  be  in<luced  to  return 
but  the  hmt  passed  unheeded,  for  re^nvt  woub    n^; 
hav.  been  among  Mr.  Symes 's  emotion;    'hM:.^!::" 

O^er  the  cofifee  and   a  superior  brand   of  cigars 
to  whK-h  Mr.  Symes  called  particular  attention  1^ 


THE  SHEEP  FROM  THE  GOATS   87 

convei^ation  of  his  guests  began  to  contain  some 
degree  of  naturalness  and  their  painful  self-conscious- 
ness gradually  vanished.  When  they  seemed  in  a 
mellow  and  receptive  mood  he  began  to  rehearse  his 
achievements  in  the  East  and  unfold  his  plans.  As 
he  talked,  their  imaginations  stimulated  by  wine,  they 
saw  the  future  of  Crowheart  pass  before  them  like  a 
panorama. 

The  army  of  laborers  who  were  to  be  employed 
upon  this  enormous  ditch  would  spend  their  wages  in 
Crowheart.  The  huge  pay-roll  would  be  a  benefit  to 
every  citizen.  The  price  of  horses  would  jump  to 
war-time  values  and  every  onery  cayuse  on  the  range 
would  be  hauling  a  scraper.  Alfalfa  and  timothy 
would  sell  for  $18  a  ton  in  the  stack  and  there  would 
be  work  for  every  able-bodied  man  who  applied.  The 
grocery  bills  of  the  commissary  would  make  the 
grocers  rich  and  Crowheart  would  boom  right.  When 
the  water  was  running  swift  and  deep  in  the  ditch 
the  land-hungr>'  housekeepers  would  fight  for  ground. 
And  it  was  only  a  step  from  settlement  to  trolley  cars, 
electric  lights,  sandstone  business  blocks  and  cement 
pavements,  together  with  lawns  growing  real  grass! 
Under  the  spell  of  his  magnetic  presence  and  con- 
vincing eloquence  nothing  seemed  more  plausible  or 
possible  than  the  fulfilment  of  these  prophecies.  And 
all  this  was  to  be  brought  about  through  the  eflPorta 
of  Andy  P.  Symes,  who  intimated  that  not  one  million 
but  millions  had  been  placed  at  his  disposal  by 
eager  and  trusting  capitalists  to  be  used  by  him  if 
necessary  in  making  the  desert  bloom  like  the  rose. 

^Ir.  Khodes  saw  himself  selling  corner  lots  at 
twenty  thousand  each  while  space  rates  rose  in  the 
mind  of  Sylvanus  Starr  in  leaps  and  bounds.     The 


88 


THE 


LADY 


DOC 


Percy  Parrots  saw  th.^mselves  lollin-  in  a  rubber-tired 
vehicle  while  the  vulgar  populace  on  the  curb  identi- 
fied them  by  pointing  with  their  grimy  fingers.  Each 
gufst  looked  forward  to  the  fulfilment  of  some  cher- 
ished dream  and  Dr.  Emma  Ilarpe  saw  a  picture,  too. 
as  she  gazed  at  Symes  with  speculative,  contemplative 
eyes. 

He  looked  the  embodiment  of  prosperity  and  suc- 
cess did  Symes,  and  if  he  subtly  intimated  that  the 
road  tc  prosperity  lay  through  loyalty  to  him,  that 
his  friendship,  support,  and  approval  were  the  steps 
by  which  they  could  best  climb,  they  were  willin-  to 
give  It  without  quibbling.  They  were  content  to  shine 
m  his  reflected  glory,  and  they  dispersed  at  a  late 
hour  feeling  that  they  had  been  tacitly  set  apart-a 
chosen  people. 

The  next  issue  of  the  Crowheart  Courier  referred 
to  the  dinner  as  a  three-course  banquet,  and  published 
the  menu.  If  the  description  of  the  guests'  costumes 
made  Crowheart 's  eyes  pop  and  none  more  than  the 
wearers,  the  latter  did  not  mention  it. 

Plea.sed  but  bewildered,  Mrs.  Terrib^rry  read  of 
herself  as  "queenly  in  gray  satin  and  diamonds  " 
being  unable  to  place  the  diamou.l.s  until  she  recalled 
the  rhinestone  comb  in  her  back  hair  which  spark'-d 
with  the  doubtful  brilliancy  of  a  row  of  alum  cubes 
^  Mrs.  Percy  Parrott  had  some  difficulty  in  recog- 
nizing herself  as  "ravishing  in  shot  silk  garnished 
with  pearls,  since  the  plaid  taffeta  which  had  come 
in  a  barrel  from  home  with  the  collar  tab  pinned  flat 
with  a  moonstone  pin  bore  little  resemblance  to  the 
elegance  suggested  in  the  paragraph. 

And  if  the  editor  chose  to  refer  to  the  pineapple 
pattern,  No.  60  cotton,  collarette  which  :\Irs.  Jackson 


THE  SHEEr  FROM  THE  GOATS 


89 


had  crocheted  between  beers  in  the  good  old  Dance 
Hall  days  as  an  "exquisite  effect  in  point  lace," 
certainly  Mrs.  Jackson  was  not  the  lady  to  contradict 
him. 

But  this  was  merely  the  warming  up  exercise  of 
the  editor's  vocabulary.  When  he  really  cut  loose  on 
Andy  P.  Syraes  the  graves  of  dead  and  buried  adjec- 
tives opened  to  do  him  honor.  In  the  lurid  lexicon  of 
his  eloquence  there  was  no  such  word  as  obsolete  and 
no  known  synonym  failed  to  pay  tribute  to  this 
"mental  and  physical  colossus."  In  his  shirt  sleeves, 
minus  his  cuffs,  with  his  brain  in  <a  lather,  one  might 
say,  Sylvanus  Starr  painted  a  picture  of  the  coming 
Utopia,  experiencing  in  so  doing  such  joys  of  creation 
as  he  had  not  known  since  his  removal  from  the 
obituary  department. 

And  reading,  the  citizens  of  Crowheart  rejoiced 
or  envied  according  to  their  individual  natures. 


VIII 

"TUK  ClIAN-CK  OF  A   LiFETIME" 

Dk.  IIari'e  was  still  youni,'  cnoiicrh  to  ho  piquod  by 
Ogden  Van  Lennop's  utter  indill'erence  to  herself.  He 
was  now  established  in  the  hotel,  apparently  for  a- 
ind(>finit.=  stay,  an.l  they  mot  frequently  in  the  corri- 
dors and  on  the  stairs.  His  attitude  of  impassive 
politeness  nettled  her  far  more  than  the  alert  hostility 
of  the  Dapro  Duke  whom  she  saw  occasionally. 

The  sli<,dit  overtures  she  made  met  no  response  and 
she  minded  it  the  more  that  he  made  no  attempt  to 
disguise  his  liking  for  Essie  Tisdale,  whose  laughin- 
good-nature   and   (juaint   humor   had   penetrated   the 
reserve  which  was  in  his  manner  toward  every  one 
else.    He  seemed  even  to  have  no  desire  t  >  take  advan- 
tage of  the  patronizing  advances  of  Andy  P.  Symes, 
and  was  contcul  enough  to  spend  a  portion  of  each 
day  reading  books  with  mystifying  titles  and  to  ride 
away  into  the  hills  to  be  gone  for  liours  at  a  time. 
He  still  wore  the  regalia  of  the  country,  the  Stets(m 
hat,  flannel  shirt  and  corduroys  that  were  too  common 
to   attract   attention,   but   the   hollows   in   his   cheeks 
were  filling  out  and  the  tired  look  was  going  from 
his  eyes. 

When  he  had  been  a  month  in  Crowheart  and  had 
made  not  the  smallest  effort  to  "get  a  job"  he  began 
to  be  regarded  with  some  suspicion.  The  fact  that'lie 
seemed  always  to  have  money  for  which  he  did  not 
work  inspired  distrust.  Then,  too,  as  Mr.  Rhodes 
shrewdly  pointed  out,  he  had  the  long  white  hands  of 
a    high-toned    crook.    As    a    result    of    the    various 

90 


"THE  CHANCE  OF  A  IJFETIME  "      !)1 

theories  advanced,  Ogdcn  Van  Lennop  canio  <j:radually 
to  he  looked  at  askanee — a  fact  of  wbioh  he  seemed 
totally  ohlivious.  And  wlu-n  the  elairvoyant  milliner 
went  into  a  trance  and  declared  that  a  desperado  was 
In  their  midst  plannint,'  a  raid  on  Crowheart  thi'  finger 
I  r  suspicion  pointed  straitrht  at  the  uncommunicative 
stran<j:er,  and  the  Iowa  Notion  Store  installed  a  riot 

Dr.  Harpe  wondered  with  the  rest  hut  she  did  not 
shaiT  their  iunorant  iiiistnist.  U>v  she  had  sut'ticicnt 
worldly  wisdoi  i  to  recojxni/.e  the  nicety  of  his  speech 
and  the  reticence  of  his  manners  as  helonirinc:  to  a 
frentleman — a  srentleinan  under  a  cloud  mayhap  hut 
still  horn  a  pjcHtlenuui.  SIk-  was  intensely  curious 
rcfrardinp:  his  antecedents,  and  one  day  she  had  her 
curiosity  prratified.  A  letti-r  which  came  in  the  morn- 
ing mail  from  a  schoolmate  in  the  East,  read: 

Deau  Emmy: 

I  have  just  loarnod  thioiifrli  tlic  papers  lioro  Ami  "'jrden 
Van  Lonnop  i.-i  "  roughing  it  "  in  your  country  and  I  tliou-ht 
T  'd  write  iind  pivc  vdi  a  hint  in  cas,'  you  eouio  .Tcro-is  him. 
firab  him,  my  dear,  if  you  liave  the  f^'host  of  a  slunv,  for  hi 
is  the  most  eli;;ihle  man  in  seven  states.  Monpy,  family, 
social  position — it  makes  me  <rreen  to  think  of  your  chance, 
it's  tlic  chance  of  a  lifi'time — for  I'd  never  meet  him  in  my 
liumble  sphere  in  a  thousand  years.  He's  an  awfully  decent 
sort,  too,  they  say.  He  overworked  after  he  came  out  of 
collego  and  he's  there  getting  his  health  back.  Good  luck 
<J  you  and  1   hope  you   appreciate   my   tip. 

Lovingly, 

Adele 


Dr.  Ilarpe  folded  the  letter  and  put  it  away. 

"Don't  I  thou.L'h?"  she  said  .trrimly. 

She  frowned  as  Van  Lennop 't;  low,  amused  laugh, 


M 


rUK  LADV  DOC 


rnin^lin.  u,tl,  Kssi.  Tis.lal..-s  nu-rry  trill,  roaohod  her 
through  ihc  upvn  window. 

shoo^.r!       Dr.  llarp.'s  face  was  not  peasant  to  see. 
She     ook   .an.   to  k..p   t.,   L.TsHf   what   sh.   had 

to  I.rofl T  to  s..,.,„  ,bov..  all  .Is..  disir,t,.n.st..d.     Whil. 

ho  boheved  that  she  oould  ovoroon.e  it  and  she  would 

;-^  ->-  -'tl.  <'agc.rness  lor  the  opportunity  to  insert 

the  oponinj,'  wvih^o.  '"^trt 

JI;"r|;tolore  tl^.  dui.ions  oomplimout  -'a  ,ood  M- 
I  ".  Irom  the  men  with  whon.  sh.  smoked  and 
Urank,   had   ploaso<l  and   satisfied   hor.     .She   had   no 

|losn.et.>app,.altoth,.minanyothorway    1^    th 
vas  d,tT..ront  beeause  O.d.n  Van  Lennop  was  dif 
<'"t,    l.,..n.    the    first    really    eligible    min    who    hid 

H^fteTTy^'lle:"  T  ''''''  ''■  ''■''^''  «^'^  ^-^^-n 
imitcd     b>     her    always    straitened    circumstances 

She  looked  upon  Van  J.ennop  in  the  light  of  an  ex! 
m.onal  bus.ness  ehance,  and  with  a  conceit  odd^ 

b  hcved  she  had  only  to  set  about  exerting  herself 
m^e^est  to  arouse  Ins  interest   and  attach  himt 

Tis^de's't Hi"'  'T'  ''""''  •^^'"  ^"^•'^"^'  ''  Essie 
i.sdale  s  .salhes  as  he  came  up  the  staiix     Her  droll 

ng.nahty  amused  him  as  he  had  not  been  amu    d 

n  a  long  tune,  and  he  found  hin.self  unbending  til 

degree  .v  uch  often  surprised  hin.self;   besi<los,"  w  th 

her   frankness,    her   naturalness   and   perfect   ^nlon 

scu,usnesss  of  any  soeial  barrier,  she  s/emed    o  him  a 

perfect  western  type.     He  prized  the  novel   fri'd! 


THE  CHANCE  OF  A  LIFETIAH: 


93 


ship,  for  it  had  beconip  that,  and  wouhl  havo  ro^'retted 
keenly  anythiiif,'  which  iiii^dit  have  interrupted  it. 

Her  realistic  dcscriptimis  of  the  episodes  of  a 
small  tf»\vri  were  irresisf  iliic  and  Van  L  nnop  never 
found  himself  more  penuinely  entertained  than  wheu 
after  a  eert-iin  set  form  of  trreetiug  whieh  they  weul 
through  daily  with  the  trreatest  gravity,  he  would 
inquire — 

"Well,  Miss  Tisdale,  what  are  the  developments  in 
the  world  to-day?"  And  with  her  qui<'k,  dimpling 
smile  she  would  respond  with  some  item  of  local  news 
whieh  took  its  humor  ehietiy  from  the  telling. 

When  a  si.L^n  on  the  far-{)aper  shack   which  bore 
the    legend    "Warshing"    was    replaced    by    "Plane 
Sewing  Done,"  she  reported  the  change  and,  a-rain, 
the  fact  that  he  was  aware  of  .Mrs.  Abi;  Tutts'.s  exist- 
ence was  due  to  Essie  Tisdale  s  graphic  account  of  the 
outb^irst  of  temper  in  which  that  erratic  lady,  while 
rehearsini;  the  role  of  a  duchess  in  an  amateur  pro- 
duction,   kicked,    not    figuratively    but    literally,    the 
duke — a  role  essayed  by  the  talented  i)lasterer — down 
the   stairs   of   Odd   Fellow's    Hall   over  the   General 
Merchandise   Store.      The   girl   enjoyed   life   and    its 
smad  incidents  with  the;  zest  of  I'xuberant  youth  and 
Van  Lennop  often  declared  him.self  as  anxious  that 
Mrs.  Percy  Parrott  should  accumulate  enough  from 
the   sale   of   milk   to   buy   screens   before   flytime   as 
that   lady  herself   since    Essie  .sustained   his   interest 
by  dady  account  of  the  addition  to  the  screen  fund. 
He   was  still    thinking  of  the   eond)ative   Airs.    Tutts 
when  he  opened  a  l)ook  and  sat  down  by  the  open 
window. 

A  murmur  of  voices  which  began  shortly  under- 
neath his  window  did  not  disturb  him,  though  sub- 


94 


rUK   LADV    DOC 


con.snn,.s  y  1...  w.s  awan-  tl.at  on.  of  than  hWongod  to 
'';:'    '"■'•"•■■'    '"s    c-yes    fru,n    ,h.    uU.rostu.g    na,'..s 


an 


bftore  hifti 

"V-M  lak-  l,im  I  t'ink  -,Iat  loafrr-lat  lVIlo^^•  Vi 
i-<'iinii|)  ;   ' 

\  .■.:.  !..,mop  nvo.M.i.,..!  tl,..  thirk,  .M.K.ral  v  .ioo  of 
"la   h'I'MianI    Dijhois. 

'■'^''^\ '"'"■'     <»•  '•.),.,•..   r  lik..  hi,,,,  .n.r'-fhere 

^   'I"''l-u|..   U,,.,,.-'  .suhstitut..,!   Dubois. 
'.\or  a  lin|(|-iip  " 

"What  you  t  'ink  hf  is?" 

'•S.nn..,hm.y.,,,  ,,,,,,,„,.,,,  r.vo.nix,..-- she  an. 
.su<Mv,|  sharf)ly:  "a  i,'.'ritl,'in;,„.  •• 

V.n.  L.'nnopsmil.Ml,  lor  in  his  mitHTs  ov.  h.  rould 

•Mr  tho  trns,.  aL.rn's.siv..nrss  of  h.T  slim  (i-rur,. 

^      "rh.nth.n.an.-'     was     th.     .ontrmptuous     snort. 

Ch.'nt Mnan-an.l  n^vr  huy  .h>  drinks  for  nohodv 

all^  .1.   t,UK.   h.   is   in    rnnvh.art.      Fin.   ohentloman 

inquiry'""    ''    '""    '"•■    ""■•"    "^^    ^^'^    P-^^ted 

'-I  haf  to  work  for  ;.,y  money;  his  comes  easy." 
he  rephfd  si-nificantiy.  ^' 

shri?'""^'Tr'  ''f  '"'"''•"  ^^^^  ^°^«^  ^^^  growing 
shriller.     "How  do  you  know?" 

"Bobbin's  easy." 
'■I  must  believe  it  if  you  say  so." 
"Why  you  ,.et  mad?     Why  you  stick  up  for  him 
so  hard:       persisted  the  Frenchman  stubbornly 

^M.y  wouldn't  I  stiek  up  fur  him?    He's  a  friend 


"Tin:  (  HAVrF,  or  A   LIFK'n.Mi:"      1).-, 

"Fin(>  fn'ii— dat  la/y  c'lu'up  kate!"  Thfre  was 
real  vciiorii  in  the  voict'. 

Van  Lciiti.i|)  hranl  lli.-  stanifi  of  Kssic  Tisdale'a 
sniall  foot   ii[)i>n  tln'  lianltroddfti  doorvard. 

"Von  needn't  ihink  von  "11  adv;iiiee  yoiir  own  in- 
terests by  callin-r  liini  sn.-li  names  as  that!  Let  me 
tell  you  I  wouidn  I  marry  yoi.  if  you  asked  mo  a 
million,  niiiliou  times :"' 

Van  Leiinop  .started.  S..  ho  was  asking  Essie 
Tisdale  to  marry  liim-this  old  i:donard  Did.ois  with 
the  huilet-shaped  head  and  the  lirutal  lace  that  Van 
Lennop  had  found  so  ol.jeetionai.le  upon  eaeli  o(T;i.sion 
that  lie  liad  heen  his  vis-a-vis  in  the  dinin-r-room  ? 

"(^h.  you  Wouldn't  marry  me.'" — the  guttural 
voiee  was  u-rly  now— "I  otTer  you  p.o.l  home,  gooa 
clothes,  ze  chanee  to  travel  when  you  lak  and  hear 
zo  ^'ood  music  zat  you  love  and  you  W(.uldu't  marry 
nie  if  I  ask  you  million  times'.'  Maybe  some  time, 
Meos  Teesilale.  you  he  (jlad  to  marry  me  when  I  ask 
you  onee ! " ' 

".Maybe  I  will."  the  angry  yonnir  voice  fluni?  back, 
"but  that  time  hasn't  eome  yit,  Mr.  Dubois!" 

"And  (Jod  forbid  that  it  ever  should,"  breathed 
Van  Lennop  to  himself  at  the  window  above.  His 
eyes  had  ^'rown  a  little  moist  at  this  exhibition  of 
her  loyalty  and  somehow  the  irenuineness  of  it  made 
liiiM  ^dow,  the  UKuv  perhai)s  that  he  was  never  with- 
out a  lurkinnr  suspicion  of  the  disinterestedness  of 
wo. lien's  friendship  for  the  reasons  which  Dr.  Ilarpe, 
for  instance,  knew. 

AVhat  Van  Lennop  had  learned  tlirc.ush  his  unin- 
tentional eavesdropping,,  was  s.^nethin-  of  a  revela- 
ti"!!.^  In  his  mild  ennjeetnres  as  to  Crowheart's 
opinion  of  him  i    never  had  occurred  to  him  that  it 


96 


THE  LADV  DOC 


eonsiclered   hi„,    anything  more    intc-iv.lln-^   than   an 
i"ipeeumou.s   semi-invalid   or   possibly   u   houseseeker 
ak.ng  h,:j  own   time   to   locate.     But   a   hold-up'    a 
loater    a  lazy  eheap-skate!     Van  Lennop  shook  with 
lent  laughter.    A  skmfiint  too  moan  to  buy  a  drink ' 
He  had  no  m,t,o.  of  enlighten.n,,  Crouheart  m  regard 
to      nnself  because  of  the  illunnnating  conversation 
h.    hu\   overheard.      The  situation   afforded   him   too 
nmeh   an.usenu.nt  and  since  Kssie  Tisdale  liked  him 
for  hn«se If  ar,d  trusted  him  in  the  face  of  wh.d  was 
cvuler.dy  Crouheart  s  opinion,  nothing  else  mattered 
ile  only  result  then  was  to  give  him  a  more  minute 
-terest    m    his    surroundmgs.       Heretofore    he    h"  1 

in  Mh.ch  persons  of  large  interests  and  wide  experi- 

thi?.'''l     ./"rT'''''"'   ''"''''''  ^'-"^^  unin^portant 
hn.gs.      n  the  hght  of  what  he  had  learned  ha  placed 

taces,  lia nklx  disapproving  looks  or  chalh-ntrin^-  inso 

Wo^glances  such  as  1.  received  from  MrfKl^Zt 
t'old  c3es.     He  snuled  often  in  keen  enjovment  o^  his 

by  steadfastlv  refusing  to  be  drawn  into  poker  -ame's 
.hich^  bore  evKlence  of  having  been  arranged  f^r  ht 

The  experience  of  being  avoided  bv  the  respectablv 
jncir^d  and  sought  after  by  those  who  had  J:^^^ 

wl'    hid        "'  ""^  '  "'*"  "^^"^'''-•"  ^^  ^^'-'^  Lennop 

enc    ^^i'Tr^  ^^--^  -^•--^^'  to  the  elefer-' 
ence    ..Inch    is    tacitly    accorded    those    of    unusual 

-^h      ut  even  had  he  found  the  antagonilti^JZ^ 

-ow.edgethatheha:^r;  -ri;s;r^^^^^ 


"THE  CHANCE  OF  A  LIFETIME"      9T 

Crowheart  a  friend  whose  loyalty  was  strong  enough 
to  stand  the  difficult  test  of  public  opinion. 

Essie  Tisdalo  had  no  notion  that  Van  Lennop  had 
overheard  her  (juarrel  with  the  Frenclunan,  but  her 
quick  perceptions  recognized  an  added  friendliness 
in  his  manner — a  kind  of  u-ibeuding  gentleness  which 
was  new— and  she  needed  it  for  she  daily  felt  the 
growing  lack  of  it  in  people  whom  she  had  called  her 
friends. 

In  the  days  which  followed,  Van  Lennop  some- 
times asked  himself  if  anything  had  gone  wrong  with 
Essie  Tisdale.  Her  shapely  head  had  a  j)roud  uplift 
which  was  new  and  in  unguarded  moments  her  red, 
sensitive  lips  had  a  droop  that  he  had  not  noticed 
before. 

Essie  Tisdale  was  not.  in  her  feelings,  unlike  a 
frolicsome  puppy  that  has  received  its  first  vicious 
kick.  She  was  digesting  tJie  new  knowledge  that  there 
were  })eople  who  could  hurt  others  deliberately, 
cruelly,  and  so  far  as  she  knew,  without  provocation; 
that  there  were  peoph?  whom  she  had  counted  her 
friends  that  were  capable  of  hurting  her— who  could 
wound  her  like  enemies.  And,  like  the  puppy  who 
runs  from  him  who  ha.s  inflicted  his  first  pain  and 
turns  to  look  with  bewilderment  and  reproach  in  his 
soft  puppy  eyes,  Essie  felt  no  resentment  yet,  only 
surpri.se  and  the  pain  of  the  blow  together  with  a 
great  anti  growing  wonder  as  to  what  she  had  done. 

The  ordeal  of  the  dinner  had  been  greater  even 
than  she  had  anticipated.  For  the  first  ti;ae  in  her 
life  she  had  been  treated  like  an  inferior— a  situation 
which  Essie  Tisdale  did  not  know  how  to  meet.  But 
it  had  remained  for  Andy  P.  Symes  who  but  a  few 
months  previous  had  pressed  her  hand  and  called  her 


98 


THE  LADY  DoC 


the  prettiest  -irl  in  Crowheart  to  inflict  the  blow  that 
hurt  most. 

The  ^'uests   were  leavin^r  when   she  had    foun-l   a 
chanee    to    whisper,    "You    l,K)k    so    well    to-ni^ht 
Gussie,"  and  Andy  P.  Symes  had  interrupted  coldly,' 
'iMrs.  Symes,  if  you  please,  Essie." 

Her  cheeks  grew  scarlet  when  she  thouf.dit  of  it 
She  had  meant  to  tell  them  in  that  wav  that  the  slight 
had  not  altered  her  friendship  and  Andv  P  Symes 
had  told  her  in  his  way  that  they  did  not  want  her 
friendship. 

She  did  not  understand  yet,  she  only  felt,  and  felt 
so  keenly,  that  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  speak 
of  it,  even  t(.  Ogden  Van  L.-nnop.  who  still  supposed 
that  she  had  gone  as  an  invited  guest. 


IX 
The  Ways  of  Poute  Society 

The  change  which  a  marcelled  pompadour,  kimona 
sieevts,  a  peach-basket  hat,  and  a  hobble  skirt  wrouf,'ht 
in  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Andy  P.  Symes,  uee 
Kunkel,  was  a  source  of  amazement  to  Crowheart. 
Her  apolo-etic  diffidence  was  now  replaced  by  an  air 
of  complacency  arisinrr  from  the  fact  that  sinoe 
her  return  she  be-an  to  regard  herself  as  a  travelled 
lady  who  had  see.-i  much  of  life.  The  occasions  upon 
which  she  had  sat  bhishing  and  stammering  in  the 
presence  of  her  husband's  friends  were  fast  fading 
from  mind  in  the  agreeable  (>xperience  of  finding  her" 
self  treated  with  deference  by  those  -vho  fomerly 
had  seemed  rather  to  tolerate  than  desire  her  society. 
I'ntil  her  r.'turu  to  Crowheart  she  had  not  in  the 
least  realized  what  a  difference  her  marriage  was  to 
make  in  her  life. 

In  that  other  environment  she  had  felt  like  a 
servant  girl  taken  red-handed  and  heavv-footed  from 
the  kitchen  and  suddenly  jilaced  in  the  drawing-room 
upon  terms  of  equality  with  her  mistress  and  her 
mistn'sses's  friends,  but  she  had  profited  bv  her 
opportunities  and  now  brought  back  with  her'some- 
thmg  of  the  air  and  manner  of  speech  and  dress  of 
those  who  had  embarrassed  her.  While  Crowheart 
laughed  a  little  behind  her  ba.'k  it  was  nevertheless 
impn'ssed  by  tlie  mild  affectations. 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  Crowheart 's  eyes 
protruded  when  Mrs.  Symes  returned  the  neighborly 
visits  of  th-  ladies  who  had  "just  run  in  to  see  how 

99 


100 


THE  LADY  DOC 


she  was  gottin'  on,"  by  a  scries  of  formal  afternoon 
calls.  No  such  fashionable  sight  ever  had  been  wit- 
nessed in  the  town  as  Mrs.  Symes  presented  when,  in  a 
pair  of  white  kid  gloves  and  a  veil,  she  picked  her  way 
with  ostentatious  daintiness  across  several  vacant  lots 
still  encumbered  with  cactus  and  sagebrush,  to  the  log 
residence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alva  Jackson. 

There  was  a  pair  of  eyes  staring  unabashed  at 
every  front  window  in  the  neighborhood  when  Mrs. 
Symes  stood  on  Mvs.  Jackson's  "stoop"  and  removed 
a  piece  of  baling  wire  from  the  lace  frill  of  her  petti- 
coat before  she  wrapped  her  handkerchief  around  her 
hand  to  protect  her  white  kid  knuckles  and  knocked 
with  lady-like  gentleness  upon  Mrs.  Jackson's  door. 

Mrs.  Jackson,  who  had  been  peering  through  the 
foliage  of  a  potted  geranium  on  the  window-sill,  was 
pinning  frantically  at  her  scolding  locks,  but  retained 
sutificient  presence  of  mind  to  let  a  proper  length  of 
time  elapse  before  opening  the  door.  When  she  did, 
It  was  with  an  elaborate  bow  from  the  waistline  and  a 
surprised — 

"Why,  how  do  you  do.  Mis'  Symes!" 
i\rrs.  Symes  smiled  in  prim  sweetness,  and  noting 
that  3Irs.  Jackson's  hands  looked  reasonably  clean 
extended   one   of   the   first  two   white   kid   gloves   in 
Crowheart  which  .Airs.  Jackson  shook  with  heartiness 
before  bouncing  back  and  inquiring— 
"Won't  you  come  in,  Alis'  Symes?" 
"Thanks."    Mrs.  Symes  took  a  pinch  of  the  front 
breadth  of  her  skirt  between  her  thumb  and  finger 
and  stepped  daintily  over  the  door-sill. 

"Set  down,"  urged  Airs.  Jackson  making  a  dash 
at  a  blue  plush  rockinsr-chair  which  she  rolled  into 
the  centre  of  the  room  with  great  ener"^^ 


WAYS  OF  POLITE  SOCIETY 


101 


When  the  chair  tipped  and  sent  Mrs.  Symes's  feet 
into  the  air  Mrs.  Jackson's  burst  of  laughter  was 
heard  distinctly  by  :\Irs.  Tutts  across  the  street. 

"Trash!"  exclaimed  that  person  in  unfathomable 
contempt. 

Mrs.  Jackson  had  t\V(>  missing  front  teeth  which 
she  had  lost  upon  an  cccasion  to  whic'  she  no  longer 
referred,  also  a  voice  strained  and  husky  from  the 
many  midnight  choruses  in  which  she  had  joined  '  j- 
fore  she  sold  her  good-will  and  fixtures-.  She  now 
rested  her  outspread  fingers  upon  each  knee  and 
wildly  ransacked  her  brain  for  something  light  and 
airy  in  the  way  of  conversation. 

Mrs.  Symes,  sitting  bolt  upright  on  the  edge  of  the 
plush  rocking-chair  with  her  long,  flat  feet  pressed 
tightly  together,  tweaked  at  the  only  veil  in  Crowheart 
and  cleared  her  throat  with  subdued  and  lady-like 
restraint  before  she  inquired — 

"Isn't  it  a  lovely  day?" 

"Oh,  lovely!"  Mrs.  Jackson  answered  with  husky 
vivacity.     "Perfeckly  lovely!" 

Another  silence  followed  and  :  >mething  of  Mrs. 
Jackson's  mental  .state  could  be  read  in  her  dilated 
pupils  and  excited,  restless  eyes.  Finally  she  said  in  a 
desperate  voice — 

"It's  a  grand  climate  anyhow." 

"If  it  wasn't  for  the  wind;  it's  one  drawback." 

Another  ])urst  of  laughter  from  :\Irs.  Jackson  who 

covered  her  mouth  with  her  hand  after  the  manner 

of  those  who  have  teen  unfortunate  in  the  matter 

of  front  teeth. 

Cats ! ' '  hissed  Mrs.  Tutts  across  the  street.    "  I  '11 
bet  they  are  laffin'  at  me!" 


10^ 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"Wo  had  r-hanninfr  weafhor  ^^h\]v  we  were  (?one  " 
eont.nued  .Mrs.  Symos  easily.     Th<.  word  was  new  'to 
her  vocabulary  and  its  elegance  did  nut  e.seape  Mrs 
Jackson. 

"That's  fjood." 

'"Hk.  ehan^ro  was  so  beneficial  to  me.     One  so  soon 
exhausts    a   small    town,    don't   you    think   .sn     Mrs 
Jackson?"  * 

Mrs.  Jackson   could   not  truthfully  sav  that   she 
ever  had  felt  that  she  had  exliausted  Crowheart,  but 
she  agreed  weaklv— 
"Uh-huh." 

''I  had  so  many  new  and  del'-ghfful  experiences 
too.^       Mrs.  Symes  smiled  a  sweetly  reminiscent  smile' 
1  ou  mnsta  had." 
"Cuing  out  in   the  train  we  ha.l  cantelope  with 
crack..,l  u-e  in  it.     You  must  trj-  it  sometimes,  Mrs 
Jackson— it's  delicions." 

"f  '-"-'t  say  when  I've  et  a  cantelope  but.  Oh 
l^ord,  I  hns  a  hankerin'  for  eggs!  I  tell  Jackson  the 
next  tun.  h.  .ships  he'.  .„tta  take  me  alon--  for  I 
want^to  git  out  where  I  can  git  my  mitt  on  a"pair  of 
e?gs. 

"T\>  l«.„„,c  ,|uit»  surfeitcl  with  egf:,,   PhMias 

Mr.    ';'";■"■"',"■:•  S-™-  "-it"  -.  air  of  o„„ui. 
Mrs.  Jackson   blinked. 

"I  ean't  go    V,,,   onless  their  plumb   fresh"  she 
replied  non-conuiiittally. 

]rvf  had  such  a  pleasant  call."  Mrs.  Svmes  rose 
Run  in  agin."  Mrs.  Jackson's  eyes  ^ere  glue.i 
upon  he  leather  card-ca.se  from  whicli  Mrs  Svmes 
was  edeavoring  to  extract  a  card  with  fingers  which 
she  was  unable  to  bend. 


WAYS  OF  POLITK  SOCIETY 


103 


"Thanks.  I've  boen  so  busy  e:('ttin<r  settled  and 
all  but  now  I  mean  to  keep  a  servant  and  shall  have 
more  time." 

Mrs.  Jaekson  liad  road  of  ladies  who  kept  servants 
but  never  had  hoped  to  know  one. 

"Where  you  goin'  to  git— it?  From  Oniyhaw  or 
K.  C?" 

"Clrax  imother  has  promised  to  come  to  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Syiiies  lanp;ni<lly. 

Mrs.  Jackson's  jaw  dropped. 

"(iramma  Kunkei  ain't  a  servant,  is  she?  she's 
'help.'  " 

"  'Help'  are  servants."  explained  Mrs.  Symes  with 
prontle  patience  as  she  laid  her  printed  vi.sitin<,'  card 
upon  the  centre  tablt>. 

"Oosh:  that  .strikes  me  funny."  Mrs.  Jiickson 
was  natural   at  last. 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  ^\r^.  Symes  with  hauteur. 
"She  must  work,  so  why  not  for  7ne?  She's  .strong 
and  very,  very  capable." 

"Oh,  .she's  capable  all  ri^rht,  but."  persisted  Mrs. 
Jackson  unconvinced,  "it  strikes  me  funny.  Say,  is 
Essie  Tisdale  a  servant,  too?" 

Mrs.  Symes  smiled  ever  so  sliirhtly  a.s  she  fumbled 
with  her  visiting  card  and  laid  it  in  a  more  con- 
spicuous place. 

"Certainly." 

"Was  that  why  .she  wasn't  asrt  to  the  banquet?" 

Again  Mrs.  Symes  smiled  the  slow,  deprecating 
smile  whieh  she  was  assiduou.sly  cultivating. 

"Society  must  draw  the  line  somewhere,  Mrs. 
Jackson." 

Mrs.  Jackson  gulped  with  a  clicking  sound,  and 
at  the  door  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Symes,  wearing  the 


104 


THE  LADY  DOC 


(lazed  oxptvssion  cf  ono  who  ha.s  binnpo.l  his  head  on 
.1  shHf  conKT.  Thn.u^'h  th.  potted  ^'eraniutu  she 
wateh.'d  .Mrs.  Symes  piekirifr  her  wav  aen.ss  another 
vacant  lo*  ,o  the  dwelling  of  the  Svlvanus  Starr's 

Mrs.  Al.e  Tutts  with  her  blue  tiannel  vaehtin-  eap 
set  i-A  an  a--ressive  an-le  over  on.,  eye  pa.ldled  aeros.s 
the  street  and  wa.s  upon  Mrs.  Jaekson  before  that 
person  was  aware  of  her  presence. 

"Has  that  f,'uttersnipe  -one.'"  A  quite  super- 
fluous .,n.-sti<.n.  as  Mrs.  Jackson  was  well   aware 

"01  who  are  you  speakin'.'"  inqnirrd  Mrs.  Jack- 
son  coldly. 

"Who  would  I  be  sp.-akin'  of  but  (Jus  Kunkel"" 
demanded  Mrs.  Tutts  bellijrcrently. 

"Lo..k  here,  Mis'  Tutts,  1  .lon't  want  to  have  no 

words  with  you,  but " 

"What's   that?"    interrupted   .Airs.    Tutts   eveing 
the  visiting'  card  which  Afrs.  Jackson  had  been  study- 
inp:  nitently.     "Is  she  leavin'  tickets  for  sonu-thin'?" 
^      "Oh,  no,"  replied  Mrs.  Jaekson  in  a  blase  tone, 
this  IS  merely  her  callin'  card." 
"Callin '  card  !    You  was  to  home,  wasn  't  you "? " 
"It's   the   new   style   to   leave   your  callin'   card 
whether   they're    to    home    or   not,"   explained    Mrs. 
Jackson,  hazardinijr  a  fruess. 

Mrs.  Jackson's  air  of  familiarity  with  social  mys- 
teries was  most  exa.speratinff  to  Mrs.  Tutts. 
"What's  the  sense  of  that?    Lemnie  see  it." 

.Airs.  T-ns  read  laboriously  and  with  unmitic^ated 
scorn : 


AtRs.  Andrew  ruiDUs  Symes 
■At  JTomr 

Thursday  2-->f 


WAYS  OF  POLITE  SOCIETY 


105 


She  sank  cantiou.sly  into  the  l)luf  rockinfj-cluiir 
and  removed  a  hatpin  which  skewered  her  yachting 
cap  to  a  knob  of  hair. 

"Tiiat  beats  mc!  'Mrs.  Andrew  Pliidias  Syme.s!'  " 
Mrs.  Tntts  .saw  no  reason  to  .sli<,'ht  the  letter  p  and  pro- 
nounced it  distinctly.  "At  home  Thursdays  between 
two  and  four!  What  of  it?  Ain't  we  all  generally 
home  Thursdays  i)t'twcen  two  and  four?" 

"(;us.sie  has  improved  wonderful,"  replied  Mrs. 
Jaek.son  paeitieally. 

''Improved!  If  you  call  froiir  around  passin' 
of  them  up  that  she's  knowed  well  'improved'  why 
then  she  has  improved  wonderful.     Snip!" 

"I  don't  think  .she  really  aimed  to  pass  you  up." 

"I  wa.sn't  thinkin'  of  my.self,''  replied  Mrs.  Tut^.? 

hotly,    "I    was   thinking   of   Essie    Tisdale.      I    hope 

Mis'  Symes  don't  come  around  to  call  on  me— I'm 

kind  of  pertieular  who  I  entertain.'' 

Mrs.  Jackson's  hard  blue  eyes  be«,'an  to  shine,  but 
Mrs.  Jackson  had  been  .something  of  a  warrior  herself 
m  her  ,  iy  and  knew  a  warrior  when  she  saw  one. 
She  had  i  o  desire  to  engage  in  a  hand  to  hand  eontlict 
with  .Mrs.  Tutts,  whose  fierceness  she  was  well  aware 
was  more  ihan  surface  deep,  and  she  read  in  that  per- 
son's al'Tt  pose  a  disconcerting  readiness  for  action. 
It  was  a  critier.l  moment,  one  which  required  tact,  for 
a  single  injudicious  word  would  precipitate  a  fray 
of  which  .Airs.  Jackson  could  not  be  altogether  sure 
of  the  result.  Besides,  poLsed  as  she  was  like  a  winged 
ilercury  on  the  threshold  of  Society,  she  could  not 
afford  any  low  scene  with  IMrs.  Tutts.  Conquering 
her^  resentment,    Mrs.    Jackson   .said    conciliatingly— 

'•Yes,  of  eour.se,  now  we're  married  it's  different 

we  have  to  be  pertieular  who  wc  entertain.    As  Mis' 


10(5 


TilE  LADY  DOC 


S>.,|.s    says.-_-SoH.ty    ,n„st    draw    ,h,.    lin.    some- 

Mr^^T,.ttss.a,vh..,l,,.,ran.in.,ui..ks.spu.io„. 
\Mi(.  (1  sill'  say  it  about'/" 

■•I'r„„,i.,..  „„.  ,„„t  ,1,,.,  w„„-t  ..„  „..  lunluT-lmpo 

Mrs.  ']",i((s  looked  mystified. 

"  What 's  slic  (lone?" 

In    unoonscions    i„utation    of   Mrs.    Svmos     Mrs 

Jackson    c-nrled  h..r   littl.   fin^.r  and  s„.i.,da\low 
deprccatinjr  .smile—  ' 

"Von  ....  she  works  o./_shes  really  a  servant  " 

yirs    lnttsno,l.ied  in  entire  comprehension 

^     n  on  tlH.m  more  or  less  as  was  out  n  out  h  red  girls 

But  ou    hen.      ve  aimed  to  treat  everylKHly  the  same'' 

HI  say  that  tor  yon.  Mis'  Tutts,"  declared  Mrs 
Ja    .son    generousy,    ''y.,,',,    „,,,,   ,j,,,.^,    ,,^  ' 

irunce  t(,  nobody. 

''Xer    me/'    declared     Mrs.    Jackson,     -she's    a 
porfeekly  j,ood  girl  so  far  as  I  know  •' 

cards'l^lnt  l'''''°"  '"^'"'^  '''^'  ^>"-«  ^'^^  them 
cards  pnnted  /  mrpnred  Mrs.  Tutts.  "I  gotta  -it 
'lutts  to  g,t  to  work  an,]  git  n,e  some  " 

TnJ'^'''"/;'  ^^  ^""''"'  ''^''  I  «^^«"'^J  think,"  Mrs 
Jackson  added.  "It  s  lucky  I  got  s.m.e  in  th  house 
since  they  've  started  in  usin '  em.  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  in  which  Mrs  Tutts 
oyed  Mrs.  Jackson  with  unfriendly  eves  It  ieemed 
very  plain  to  her  that  her  neighlor'  .as  tr^lTto 


WAYS  OF  POLITK  SOCIK'l  V  107 

"put  it  ..v.r  !...,•.•'  TI...  t.Tn,)tati..M  a-ainst  which  sho 
stnitrd.-.!  was  loo  sfronj;  an,!  she  inquin-.l  p.-intclly 
while  she  diseroctly  arose  to  fro 

"Hiisiness  eards,  Mis'  Jackson -some  vou  ha.l  loft 

over.'" 

IhlAimuwy  was  scatter..,!  to  the  four  winds. 

"No;  not  ht.siness  cards,  Mis'  Tiitts!  Callin' 
cards,  ni  show  y„u  „„..  sine,.  Tw  ,,0  noii,,,,  you 
ever  saw  one  hack  th.re  in  that  her  .-.anlen  where 
you  cracked  your  voi.c  sinL;in'!'' 

:^I'-s.  Tntls  ,,nl   on   her  ya.-htin-  cap  and  pullintf 
It  down  .„.  h.r  head  ur.til  her  hair  was  well  eovred 
advanced  nienarinjr|v.  ' 

"Vou  ,u„tta  eat  then,  w.^rds,  Mis'  Jaek.son."  she 
said  wi.h  ominous  calm. 

iMrs.  .Jackson  retr.'at.'d  until  the  marhlo-topped 
centre  lahl,.  formed  a  protect  in-  harrier. 

"'|''"'t  you  start  no  rou-h-hou.se  hero,  Mis' 
Tutts. 

Mrs.  Tutts  continued  to  advance  and  her  lips  had 
contracted  as  th<.u<,d.  an  invisible  -athorin-  string 
had  been  jerked  violently. 

"You  ^'otta  (>at  them  words,  Mis'  Jaek.son."  Un- 
wavorini,'  purpose  was  in  her  voic(>. 

"I'll  have  the  law  on  you  if  you  begin  a  ruckus 
here."  .Mrs.  Jackson  moved  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  table. 

"Th.>  law's  nothin'  to  me."  Mrs.  Tutts  went 
around  the  table. 

"I  haven't  forgot  I'm  a  lady!"  Mrs.  Jackson 
quickened  her  gait. 

"Everybody  else  has."  Mrs.  Tutts  also  acceler- 
ated her  pace. 


108 


THE  LADV   DOC 


"Don't  you  dast  lay  haiid.s  on  niL'!"'  Mrs.  Jack- 
son l)rok('  into  ii  tntt. 

"Not  if  I  can  stomp  on  yon,"  doolarcl  Mrs.  Tutts 
as  Ih.'  Lack  fulness  of  Mrs.  Jackson's  skirt  slipped 
throut:h  her  fititrers. 

''What's  the  use  of  this?  I  don't  want  to  fijrht, 
Mis'  Tutts. "  Mrs.  Jack.son  was  ^'allopin^'  and  slit,'htly 
di/zy. 

"Yon  will  onct  you  jrit  into  it,"  cncouratred  Mrs. 
Tutts.  grimly  measuring  the  distance  between  theui 
with     rr  eye. 

"You  (Hi-ht  to  have  your  hrains  hont  ont  for 
tliis!"  On  the  thirteenth  lap  around  the  table  Mrs. 
Jaek.son  was  i)anting  audibly. 

"Couldn't  reaeh  yours  th'out  outtin'  vonr  feet 
ofl'!"  responded  Mrs.  Tutts,  in  whose  eyes  gleamed 
what  sporting  writers  de.seribe  as  "the  joy  of  battle." 

The  strength  of  the  hunted  ho.stess  was  wanin- 
visibly.  " 

"I've  got  heart  trouble.  Mis'  Tutts,"  she  gasped 
in  desperation,  "and  I'm  liable  to  drop  dead  auv 
jump !  ' 

"No  such  luck."  Mrs.  Tutts  made  a  pa.ss  at  her 
across  the  table. 

"This  is  perfeekly  ridic'Ious;  do  you  atall  realize 
what  you're  doin"/" 

"I  won't,"  .Mrs.  Tutts  spoke  with  full  knowledge 
of  the  deadly  insult;  "I  won't  until  I  git  a  few  hand- 
tuls  of  your  r((t.  hair!" 

:\rrs.  Jackson  stopped  in  her  tracks  and  fear  fell 
from  her.     Her  roving  eye  searched  the  room   "or  a 
M-eapon  and  h.^r  glance  fell  upon  the  potted  geranium 
Mrs.    Tutts    already    had   possessed    herself    of   the 
scissors. 


WAYS  OF  POLITE  S(K  lETV 


1U9 


"My  hair  may  I)-  r.-.l,  Mis'  Tiitts,"  Iht  shnll  v(.i,.« 
whiHtk'd  thn.u-h  tlu'  space  It-ft  hv  her  missing'  te.'th, 
Hi  she  stood  with  the  geranium  ])oised  aloft,  "but 
it's  mij  own!" 

Mrs.  Tutts  stat'trered  niid.T  tho  crash  of  pottery 
and  the  thud  of  i)ack.d  dirt  upon  hor  head.  She  sank 
to  the  floor,  but  n.se  again,  dazed  and  blini:iu^',  her 
warlike  spirit  temporarily  eiushed. 

"There's  the  door,  >iis'  Tutts."  Mr..  Jaek.son 
drew  herself  ui,  with  re-al  hauteur  and  i)oiuted. 
"Now  get  the  hell  out  of  here!" 


Essie  Tisdalk's  Exforced  Abnegatiox 

Thkiuc  was  ,.ne  place  at  lea.-t  where  the  popularity 
of  the  httle  belle  of  Crowheart  showed  no  sic^ns  of 
dnnmnUnn  and  this  was  in  the  n.ena^'erie  of  domestie 
animals  whieh  oeenpi.nl  .|uarters  in  the  rear  of  the 
la.-e  ha.-kyard  of  th..  hoM.     Thr  phk-matic   hlaek 
-'"inhus  and   dray   horses  nei.i,.    d   for  suua.-  at   her 
<-"'H.nir.  the  calf  she  ha.i  weane.l  from  th.  wUd  ran^e 
oo^v  hawk-d  at  si^rht  of  h.r,  while  varions  useless  do^ 
^•■ape„  ahout  her  in  ecstasy,  and  a  mere  j,din.pse  of  her 
■sk.rt  thrnnd.   th.   kit.-h.n   dnoruay   was  sufTicient  to 
start  sneh  a  dnct  fnnu  the  Uvo  excessively  vital  and 
omn.verons    mammals    whom     Essie    had     ironically 
named  Alphonse  and  (Jast.m  that  Van  Lennop    who 
had  the  full  hrnofit  of  this  chorus,  often  wished  the 
tune  had  arrived  for  Alphonse  and  Gaston  to  fulfil 
their  d.'stniy.     Yet   he  found   diversion,   to.),   in   her 
ettorts  to  instil  mto   their  minds  the   importan-e   of 
politeness  a.nd  uns'"l/ishness  and  frequently  h.  lau-^hed 
aloud  at  the     ragments  of  conversation  which  reached 
him   when  he  heard  her  laboring  with  them   in  the 
interest  (.f  their  manners. 

A  loud  and  persistent  squealing  caused  Van  Len- 
nop to  raise  his  eyes  from  his  book  and  look  out  upon 
the  pole  corral  wherein  th,.  vocife.-ous  Alphonse  and 
Gaston  w,>re  confined.  Es.sie  Tisdal,.  was  p.^rched 
up<ni  the  top  pole,  seemingly  deaf  to  their  shrill  im- 
portunities: depressicm  was  in  every  line  <.f  her  slim 
figure,  despondency  in  the  droop  of  her  head  Her 
attitude  held  his  attention   and  set   him   wouderin- 

no 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  ABNEGATION      111 

for  he  thought  of  her  always  as  the  embodiment  of 
laughter,  good-humor,  and  exuberant  youth.  Of  all 
the  women  he  ever  had  known,  either  well  or  casually, 
she  had  seemed  the  farthest  from  moods  or  nerved 
or  anything  even  dimly  suggestive  of  the  neurasthenic. 
Moved  by  an  impulse  Van  Lennop  laid  down  bis 
book  and  went  below. 

"Air-castles,  .Aliss  Tisdale?"  he  asked  as  he 
sauntered  toward  her.  He  still  insisted  upon  the 
whimsical  formality  of  "Miss  Tisdale."  although  to 
all  Crowheart,  naturally,  she  was  "Essie." 

_  The  girl  lifted  her  sombre  eyes  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice  and  the  shadow  in  them  gave  them  the  look  of 
deep  blue  velvet,  Van  Lennop  thought. 

"You  on]y  build  air-eastles  when  you  are  happy 
don 't  you  ?  and  ''opef ul  ? "  " ' 

"And  are  you  not  happy  and  hopeful,  Uks  Tis- 
dale?" Amusement  glimmered  in  his  eyes.  "I 
thought  you  were  quite  the  happiest  person  I  know, 
and  to  be  happy  is  to  be  hopeful." 

_  "What  have  I  to  make  me  happy?"  she  demanded 
with  an  intensity  which  startled  hira.  "What  have 
I  to  hope  for?" 

"Fishing,  Miss  Tisdale?"    He  still  smiled  at  her 
^'^'For  what?     To  be  told  that  I'm  pretty?" 
"And  young,  "Van Lennop  supplemented   "T  know 
womvn  who  would  give  a  king's  ransom  to  be  young  and 
pretty.   Isn  't  that  '^nough  to  make  one  person  happy  ? ' ' 
"And  wh.nt  good  will  being  either  ever  do  me?" 
she  demanded  bitterly;  "me,  a  biscuit-shooter!"   Her 
musicid  voice  was  almost  harsh  in  its  bitterness     She 
turned  upon  him  fiercely.     "Iv^e  been  happy  because 
I  was  Ignorant.  Imt  I've  boon  enlightened;  I've  been 
made  to  see;  I've  been  shown  my  place!" 


112 


THE  LADy  DOC 


ju..  ""'nTif  ■''■"•■rr.TV'i '"''  ""•  ^""^  ™« 

and  .sho  went  00-  °  '"**"'  "'  ""■  i"'l"irin,.|y 

-  p'iaini'  ;7:,;,ih  i^v-^"  "*='-^  "->  «f  »=?  It's 

;;-\nMvl,ati»it,."he„.,l;cdp.„tlj, 

puncher  will  ask  mn  fn  »     ''  ^7^*-^  ^-'^'^^   some  cow- 

'Hion  he'JI  file  on  a  homeste-ul  n    .  '  ^  '"'"^  ^'''• 

the  foothills  whore  Zl!'  ""  somewhere  in 
sheep  and  t'  fi  v  t.  "f  ^'  "°'^  ^"^  '^''^^'^  "« 
davs'  trip        town  "     i?  '"  '  "^^'°^^^^^  ''^"J  '"^  t.vo 

"'"*  cracked  lids  m  the  other      Tlw.n.'ii  i 

bottom  of  cowhide  for  me     TT.^ii  '^  '''''^"^ 

of  yearlin.^s  with  his  J.  .       "''  ""  ^'^^^'  ^"°^'^^ 

and  in  the    n      1  in.      f!-'"^  "'^'*  ^^^^  ^'"^^^  '^^^^^^ 
ho  breaks  :  0     5  to  n  T       "";•  "'^  '''^^  ^^"^'^"^^  ^^'^^'^^ 

^'"--v;sr::{;;:::--;--;^ai.dfa. 

sqiunt  nir  in  the  s>m  o,.  i  ,  *    ^^^^^'"^   ±^om 

1  o        inc  sun  and  a  weatherbeaten  ^l-W,  f,.^ 

ridinp:  in  the  «-;n,i  n.,  j  c  ,     <^iuicULn  sMn  ±rom 


l:' 


'"•     '•"'"^^■    T.'SOALK,     I 


(Ji.TTI.VG  AS  THAT 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  ABNEGATION      113 


the  clothes  I  wore  before  I  was  married  and  he'll  wear 
overalls  and  boots  with  run-over  heels.  A  dollar  will 
look  a  shade  smaller  than  a  full  moon  and  I'll  crj'  for 
joy  when  I  f,'et  a  clothes-wringer  or  a  washing  machine 
for  a  Cliristraas  present.  That,"  she  concluded 
laconically,  "is  my  finish." 

Van  Lennop  did  not  smile,  instead  he  shook  his 
head  gravely. 

"No,  Essie  Tisdale,  I  can't  just  see  you  in  ciuy 
such  setting  as  that." 

* '  Why  not  ?    I  've  seen  it  happen  to  others. ' ' 

"But,"  he  spoke  decisively,  "you're  different." 

"Yes,"  she  cried  with  a  vehemence  which  sent  the 
color  flying  imder  her  fair  skin,  "I  am  different!  If 
I  wasn't  I  \\uuldn't  mind.  But  I  care  for  things  that 
the  girls  who  have  married  like  that  do  not  care  for, 
and  I  can't  help  it.  They  save  their  money  to  buy 
useful  things  and  I  spend  all  mine  buying  books. 
Perhaps  it's  wrong,  for  that  may  be  the  reason  of  my 
shrinking  from  a  life  such  as  I've  described  since 
books  have  taught  me  there's  something  else  outside. 
Being  different  only  makes  it  all  the  Larder." 

"And  yet,"  said  Van  Lennop,  "  I'm  somehow  glad 
you  are.  But  what  has  happened?  "Who  has  hurt 
you?  Did  something  go  wrong  at  this  wonderful 
dinner  of  which  you  told  me?  Were  you  not  after 
all  quite  the  prettiest  girl  there?" 

"I  wasn't  asked!" 

Van  Lennop 's  eyes  widened. 

"You  were  not?  Why,  I  thought  the  belle  of 
Crowheart  was  always  asked. ' ' 

"Not  now;  I'm  a  biscuit-shooter;  I  work — and — 
'Society  must  draw  the  line  somewhere'  " 
8 


114 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"Who  said  that?"  Amazement  was  in  Van  Len- 
nop's  tone. 

".Mr.  Symcs  said  it  to  Mrs.  Symes,  Mrs.  Symes 
said  it  to  .Mrs.  Jackson,  Mrs.  Jack  ou  said  it  to  Mrs. 
Tutts,  ,Mix  Tutts  said  it  to  me." 

"Of  whom?" 

"Of  me." 

"Jiut  wliat  society?"  Van  Lennop's  face  still 
wore  a  puzzled  look. 

* '  Crow  heart  society. ' ' 

A  light  broke  over  his  face ;  then  he  lauphed  aloud, 
such  a  shout  of  unadulterated  glee  that  Alphonse  and 
Gaston  ceased  to  squeal  and  fixed  their  twinkling  eyes 
upon  him  in  momentary  wonder. 

"When  I  told  you  I  was  going  I  thought  of  course 
they  would  ask  me.  I  thought  the  tardy  invitation 
was  just  an  oversight,  bu+  now  I  know"— her  chin 
quivered  suddenly  like  a  hurt  child's— "that  they 
never  meant  to  ask  mo." 

Van  Lennop's  face  had  quickly  sobered. 

"You  are  sure  he  really  said  thiit— this  Andy  P. 
Symes  ? " 

"I  think  there's  no  mistake.  It  was  the  easiest 
way  to  rid  themselves  of  my  friendship."  She  told 
hmi  then  of  the  reproof  Symes  had  administered. 

An  unwonted  shine  came  into  Van  Lennop's  calm 
eyes  as  he  listened.  This  j.ut  a  different  face  upon  the 
affair,  this  intentional  injury  to  the  feelings  of  his 
■stanch  httle  champion,  it  somehow  made  it  a  more 
personal  matter.  The  "social  line"  amused  him 
merely,  though,  in  a  way,  it  held  a  sociologica.  interest 
for  him,  too.  It  was,  he  told  himself,  like  bein- 
privileged  to  witness  the  awakening  of  social  ambi- 
tions  in  a  tribe  of  bushmen. 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  ABNEGATION      115 

Van  Lennop  was  silent,  but  the  girl  ielt  his  un- 
spoken sympathy,  and  it  was  balm  to  lier  sore  little 
heart. 

"This— society?"  she  asked  after  a  time.  "What 
is  it?  We've  never  had  it  before.  Everybody  knows 
everybody  else  out  here  and  there  are  so  few  of  us 
ihat  we've  always  had  our  good  times  together  and  we 
have  never  left  anybody  out.  The  verj-  last  thing  we 
wanted  to  do  was  to  hurt  anyone  else's  feelings  in  that 
way. ' ' 

"You  have  left  those  halycon  days  behind,  I'm 
afraid,"  Van  Lennop  replied.  "The  first  instinct  of 
a  certain  class  of  people  is  to  hurt  the  feelings  of 
others.  It's  the  only  way  they  know  to  proclaim  their 
superiority,  a  superiority  of  which  they  are  not  at 
all  sure,  themselves.  Just  what  'society'  is,  is  an 
old  and  threadbare  subject  and  has  been  threshed  out 
over  and  over  again  without  greatly  altering  any- 
body's individual  point  of  view.  Cood  breeding, 
brains  and  money  are  generally  conceded  to  be  the 
essentials  required  by  that  complex  institution  and 
certainly  one  or  all  of  them  are  necessary  for  any 
great  social  success." 

Van  Lennop  watched  her  troubled  face  and  waited. 

"Then  that's  why  old  Edouard  Dubois  was  asked, 
though  he  never  speaks,  and  Alva  Jackson,  who  is 
xincouth  and  ignorant?     They  represent  money." 

Van  Lennop  smiled. 

"Undoubtedly." 

"And  the  Starrs  are  brains." 

He  laughed  outright  now. 

"The  power  of  the  press!   Correct,  Mis.s  Tisdale." 

"And  Andy  P.  Symes "  Van  Lennop  supplied 


116 


THE  T.ADV  DOC 


dryly — "is  family.     Jic  had  a  ^feat-grand father,   I 
bt'li('V(\" 

Van  Lonnnp  rotumod  the  "persistent,  pleading 
stai-e  of  Alphoiise  and  (iaston  while  Essie  pondered 
this  lu'wilderinLT  snbject. 

"But  out  here  it's  mostly  money  that  eounts,  or 
rather  will  count  in  the  future." 

"Yes,  with  a  man  of  S.^'mes's  typo  it  Tould  be 
nearly  the  only  qualification  nr -essary.  If  you  had 
been  the  'rich  Miss  Tisdali''  you  undoubtedly  would 
have  been  the  <,'uest  of  honor." 

"Then,"  she  said  chokingly,  "my  good  times  are 
over,  for  l"in — nobody  knows  who — just  Essie  Tisdale 
— a  biscuit-shooter  whose  friendship  counts  for 
nothing." 

AVith  feminine  intuition  she  grasped  Crowhcart's 
new  point  of  view,  and  Van  Lennop.  because  he  knew 
human  nature,  could  not  contradict  lier,  but  in  the 
security  of  his  own  position  he  could  not  fully  under- 
stand how  much  it  all  meant  to  her  in  her  small 
world. 

"You  mustn't  take  this  to  heart,"  he  said  gently, 
conscious  of  a  strong  desire  to  comfort  her.  "If  the 
cost  of  an  invftation  were  a  single  tear  it  would  be 
too  high  a  price  to  pay.  In  explaining  to  you  what 
the  world  m-ognizes  in  a  gene-'  way  as  'Society,' 
I  had  no  thought  of  Crowheart  in  my  mind.  There 
can  be  no  'Society'  in  Crowheart  with  its  present 
material.  "What  it  is  obvious  this  man  Symes  means 
to  attempt,  is  only  an  absurd  imi.  ition  of  something 
he  can  never  hope  to  attain.  The  effort  resembles 
the  attempts  of  a  group  of  amateurs  to  present  a 
Boucicanlt  comedy,  while  'in  front'  the  world 
laughs  at  them,  not  with  them.     It  is  a  dangerous 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  ABNEGATIOX      117 

oxporiment  to  pr.-tend  to  be  anything'  other  than  what 
you  arc.  It  means  loss  of  dif,'nity,  for  you  are  merely 
absurd  when  you  attempt  to  play  a  part  which  by 
birth  and  trainini,'  and  temperament  you  arc  nowise 
fitted  fo  i)lay.  You  bee  ;)nie  a  tartret  for  the  people 
whom  you  care  most  to  impress. 

"When  one  bejxins  to  imitat.>  he  loses  his  individ- 
uality and  his  individuality  is  the  westerner's  chief 
charm.  lie  yourself,  Essie  Tisdale,  be  simple,  sincere, 
and  you  can  never  be  absurd. 

"I  am  sorry  for  what  you  have  told  me,  since,  if 
what  seems  threateniu','  comes  to  pass,  ("rowheart  will 
be  only  a  middle  class,  conunonplaee  town  of  which  it 
hiis  a  thousand  prototypes.  Its  stronjrest  attraction 
now  is  its  western  Havor,  the  linperin-r  atmosphere  of 
the  frontier.  This  must  pass  with  time,  of  course,  but 
it  seems  a  shame  that  the  ehan^'c  should  be  forced  pre- 
maturely by  the  etTorts  of  tliis  man  Symes.  Really  I 
feel  a  distinct  sense  of  personal  injury  at  his  innova- 
tions." Van  Lennop  lauofhed  sli-rhtly.  "The  old  way 
was  the  best  way  for  a  lon,<r  time  to  come,  it  seems  to 
me.  That  was  real  demoeracy~a  Utopian  condition 
that  had  of  necessity  to  p:o  with  the  town's  growth,  but 
certainly  not  at  this  sta-,'e.  In  larger  communities 
it  is  natural  enough  that  those  of  similar  tastes  should 
seek  I  ;ch  other,  l)ut,  in  a  place  like  Crowheart  where 
i^e  interests  and  the  mental  calibre  of  its  inhabitants 
an-  practically  the  same,  the  man  who  seeks  to  estab- 
lish an  'aristocracy'  proclaims  himself  a  petty- 
minded,  silly  ass.    Be  a  philosopher.  Miss  Tisdale." 

But  Essie  Tisdale  was  not  a  philosopher:  the  ex- 
perience was  still  too  new  and  bewildering  for  philoso- 
phy to  prove  an  instant  remedy.  She  found  Van  Len- 
nop's  sjTnpathy  far  more  comforting  than  his  lome, 


118 


THE  LADY  DOC 


l)iit  tlin.u-li  hrr  hcii\ y-hcarfcdn.'ss  th.-ro  was  crcppiriR 
a  KrowiiiLT  a[)|)iV(.Mati()n  of  iho  superiority  of  this 
straiitrcr  in  worn  corduroys  to  }iis  surrouadiu^'s,  u 
ck-arcr  conrcption  of  his  fahn  mental  i)()is('. 

Van  Lennop  himself  was  a  livin-  eontradiction  of 
the  lallaeious  slafenu'iit  tliat  all  men  ar..  ,qual,  and 
now,  mov.Hl  by  her  unhappiness,  she  eau-ht  a  -limpse 
of  that  lyin^'  heneath  the  impretrnahle  reserve  of  a 
polite  and  a-rooable  exterior  which  made  the  dis-tinc- 
tion.  She  realized  more  stronirly  than  Ix-fore  that  lie 
lived  upon  a  different  plane  from  that  of  any  man  she 
ever  had  known. 

''l)o  you  know  who  I  think  ir.ust  have  been  like 
you?"'  she  asked  him  unexpectedly. 

He  shook  his  head   smilinf,'ly. 

"  1  can  't  imajrine. " 

"Tn'oliert  Louis  Stevenson." 

lie  flushed  a  little. 

'•You  surely  flatter  mo :  there  is  no  one  whom  I 
admire  more."  Uv  looked  at  her  in  something,  of 
ploased  surpris<-.  "You  read  Steveusoa— von  "like 
him?" 

Iler  face  liudited  with  enthusiasm. 

"So  very,  very  much,  lie  seetns  so  wise  and  so- 
human,  f  hav(>  all  that  h(>  has  written-his  publi.shed 
letters,  evcn-thinir." 

He  continued  to  look  at  her  oddlv.  Yes,  Essie  Tis- 
dale  was  ' '  diffen-nt ' '  and  somehow  he  was  plad.  The 
personal  on  vernation  had  sho^^•n  him  unexpected 
phases  of  her  character.  He  saw  beneath  her  youth- 
ful worldlin.'ss  the  latent  ambitions,  undeve'loped 
immature  desires  and  somethinjr  of  the  underlvin^^ 
stren-rth  eonceale.l  by  her  ordinarilv  lieht-hearted 
exuberance.     \Yhile  the  readjustment  of  Crowheart's 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  ABNEGATION       119 

Sfwial  nfTairs  was  hnrtiner  hor  on  the  raw  he  saw  the 
s<'iisitiv('Uf.ss  ol"  her  nature,  the  quick  pride  ami  [mt- 
eeptions  wliieh  he  iiii<,'lit.  otherwise  have  heeii  lonj,'  in 
(liseoverin^^  Previously  she  had  amused  and  inter- 
ested him,  now  she  awakened  in  him  a  real  anxiety 
as  to  her  future. 

"Be  hrave,"  lie  said,  "and  keep  on  smilin-r,  Essie 
Tisihde.  You  nuist  work  out  your  own  salvation  as 
must  we  all.  This  will  pass  and  he  I'orirotten ;  there 
will  he  triumphs  with  your  failures,  don't  forf,'et  that, 
and  the  lonj,'  years  ahead  (.f  you  which  you  .so  dread 
may  hi.Ul  hctter  thing's  than  you  dare  dream.  In 
some  way  that  I  don 't  see  now  I  may  he  ahle  to  lend 
you  a  helping  hand." 

"Your  frier!(]ship  and  your  sympathy  are 
enoutrh,"  she  said  ^'ratefully. 

"You  have  them  both,"  he  answered,  and  on  the 
strenjrth  of  ten  years'  difTerence  in  their  ages  he 
patted  her  slim  fingers  with  a  ((uite  paternal  hand, 
in  ignorance  of  the  malevolent  pair  of  eyes  watching 
him  from  the  window  at  the  end  of  the  upper  corridor. 


■4 
I 


il 


ZI 

'I'm:   ()i'KMN(,    Wiirx.i: 

It  was  with  mixed  iVclin^'s  that  Dr.  Hiirpo  saw 
V;jn  L.TiiKip  nd,'  briskly  I'nun  tlir  liwry  stjihlc  Icad- 
iiij,'  a  saddle  hmsc  liclimd  his  own.  it  was  lor  JOssic 
Tisdale,  .she  suriiiiscd,  and  lur  coiijccture  wa.s  c(»u- 
iiriiicd  when  she  .saw  tlinri  ■:allo|)  away. 

Wliil.'  the  sii:ht  -all.'d  li.r  it  {)li'ascd  her.  too, 
tor  if  Irrit  coiof  to  the  impressiitii  she  was  discreetly 
hut  persist. 'iitly  .iideavoriiii,'  to  si)read  in  the  eoni- 
munity  that  the  ojien  rui)tiire  l)etwee(i  herself  and  the 
Kirl  was  of  her  makiiifr  Jind  was  iieeessitate<l  by 
reasons  which  she  t-onld  but  did  not  care  to  make 
public.  She  made  no  definite  ehar^'e,  but  with  a 
deprecatory  shru;,'  of  her  shoulder  and  a  casual  ob- 
servatioM  .'     t  •  j-   ,,  ^,  .  .,  ,,i,^.  j.^^j,.  .,.j^^,...     ^^..^^  ^^^.^j. 

111^'  such  a  fo.,1  of  herself  and  ailowin^'  a  perfect 
stran^'er  to  make  sudi  a  fool  (d"  her"  she  was  gradu- 
ally achievin-  the  result  sh.-  desired.  The  newcomer's 
seized  upon  her  insinuations  with  avidity,  but  the  old 
settlers  were  loath  to  believe,  though  upon  each,  in  the 
ond,  it  had  its  ..ffcct,  for  Dr.  llari.e  was  now  tirmly 
established  in  Crowhoart's  esfwm.  She  had,  she  felt 
sure,  safe!,'uarded  herself  so  far  as  Kssi.-  Ti.sdale  was 
concerned,  yet  she  was  not  satisfied,  for  she  .seemed 
no  nearer  overcoming  Van  Lennop's  prejudice  than 
the  day  she  had  arou.sed  it.  He  distinctly  avoided 
her,  and  she  did  not  believe  in  forcing  i.ssues.  Time, 
she  often  averred,  would  bring  nearly  every  desired 
result,  and  .she  could  wait;  but  she  did  not  wait 
patiently,  frettint;'  more  and  more  as  the  days  drifted 

120 


Tin:  ()i'i:Ni\(;  wedgp: 


12  k 


l)y  without  Winrjir.p  to  Ii.t  tli."  <l,.sirr"il  opportunity. 
"I   hate  to  hf  thwarted!     I   hat.'  it!     I  hat.-  it'" 
sh.'  ..rteii  .said  an^'rily  to  hvvsrii,  l,i,t  .slic  was  h.-lph-ss 
iu  thr   fair  of  Van   l.curiops  cnol  avoidance. 

Ill  thf  nu'a.ifiriic  the  liiiL'hear  of  her  existence  wu.s 
making'  history  m  his  (,wn  way.     Tlie  Dat'o  Duxe  was 
no  ineonspi.MK.iis   fi-,'nre  in  Crow  heart,    for  his  daily 
Iif<'  w;ls  pnnetuat.-d  with  e.seapades  wliieh  constantly 
tnrnishcd    fresh   topics  of  conversation    to   the   jnipn- 
laee.     II,.  ilueliiated  hetw.-en  periods  of  ah.jcct  poverty 
and   hriefer  j.eriod.s  ,,f  piincrly  atllnenee,   il„.   jatfer 
seMom  htstini,'  loni,'er  than  a  ni^dit.      lie  eriLraijed  in 
disputes  over  nioii.y   where  tlie  sum   involved   rarely 
exceeded  a  dollar,  with  a  ni-ht  in  the  ealahoo.se  anil 
:i  hri.'  as  ii  result,   after   which    it   was  his   wont   to 
present  his  (lisfi<,'ured  opi.onent  with  a  munifieent  ^'ift 
as  a  token  of  his  esteem.     Who  or  what  he  was  and 
why  he  cIkjsc  to  honor  Crowheart  with  his  presence 
were  question.s  which  he  show.'d  no  desire  to  answer. 
ile    was   duly   considered    as   a   .social    possihility   by 
Andy  1».  .Symes,  hut  rejected  owinf?  to  the  fact  that  he 
was  .seldom  if  ever  .sober,  and,  furthermore,  in  .spite  of 
his  undeniably  polished   manners,  shcnved  a  marked 
preference  for  the  conipanionshii)  of  the  element  who 
were  unmistakably  goats  in  Ih.-  social  division. 

At  last  there  came  a  time  when  the  Dago  Duke  was 
unable  to  raise  a  cup  of  coffee  to  his  lips  without 
«»'alding  him.self.  He  had  no  desire  for  food,  his 
t'yes  were  bloodshot,  and  his  favorite  bartender  tied 
his  scarf  for  him  mornings.  He  moved  from  saloon 
to  saloon  haranguinr-  the  patrons  upon  the  curse  of 
wealth,  encouraged  i  his  so<.ialistic  views  by  the 
professional  gamblers  who  presided  over  the  poker 
games  hud  roulette  wheels.     In  view  of  their  interest 


Iftft 


THE  LADY  DOC 


there  sct>mod  no  likelihood  that  the  curse  would  rest 
upon  him  long. 

Then  one  niprht,  or  morning,  to  be  exact,  after  the 
Dago  Duke  had  been  assisted  to  retire  by  his  friend 
the  bartend-T,  an<I  the  wa-sltstand  by  actual  <-()unt  had 
chased  the  bureau  sixty-two  times  around  the  room, 
the  Drgo  Duke  noticed  a  lizard  on  the  wall.     lie  was 
not  entirely  convinced  that  it  was  a  lizard  until  he  sat 
up  in  bed  and  noticed  that  there  were  two  lizards. 
He  crept  out  and  picked  up  his  shoe  for  a  weapon. 
"Now  if  I  cau  paste  that  first  one,"  he  told  him- 
self optimistically,  "I  know  the  other  Avill  leave." 

He  struck  at  it  with  the  heel  of  his  shoe,  and  it 
darted  to  the  ceiling,  whence  it  looked  down  upon  him 
with  a  peculiarly  tantalizing  smile. 

The  Dago  Duke  stood  on  the  bureau  and  endeav- 
ored to  reach  it,  but  it  was  surprisin^rly  agile;  Ix'sides 
other  lizards  were  now  appearing.  They  came  from 
every  crack  and  corner.  They  swarmed  Lizards 
though  harmless  are  unpleasant  and  the  perspiration 
stood  out  on  the  Dago  Duke's  brow  as  he  watched  their 
number  grow.  He  struck  a  mighty  blow  at  the  lizard 
on  the  ceiling  and  the  bureau  toppled.  He  found  him- 
self uninjured,  L.t  the  breaking  of  the  glass  made 
something  of  a  crash.  The  floor  was  all  but  covered 
with  lizards,  so  he  decided  to  return  to  his  bed  before 
he  was  oblige.l  to  step  on  them.  He  was  shaking  as 
with  a  chill  and  his  teeth  clicked.  They  were  on  his 
bed!  They  were  under  his  pillow!  Then  he  laughed 
aloud  when  he  discovered  it  was  only  a  roll  of  bank- 
notes he  had  placed  there  before  his  friend  the  bar- 
tender had  blown  out  the  light.  But  the  rest  were 
lizards,  there  wa.s  no  doubt  about  that,  and  he  would 
tell  Terriberry  in  the  morning  what  he  thought  of 


THE  OPENING   WEDGE 


US 


him  and  his  hotel !    They  were  darting  over  the  walls 
and  ceiling  and  wiggling  over  the  floor. 

"I  can  stand  it  to-night,"  he  muttered,  "but  to- 
morrow ' ' 

What  was  that  in  the  comer  ?  He  had  only  to  look 
twice  to  know,  lie  h.ul  seen  Gila  monsters  in  Ari- 
zona! He  had  seen  a  oowpuneher  ride  into  town  with 
one  biting  his  thumb  in  two.  Th-  puncher  went  crazy 
later.  Yes,  h(i  knew  a  Gila  monster  when  lie  saw  one 
and  this  was  plain  enough ;  th(^re  were  the  orange  and 
black  markings,  the  wicked  head,  the  b .ady,  evil 
eyes— and  this  one  was  growing!  It  would  soon  be 
as  big  as  a  sea-turtle  and  it  was  blinking  at  him  with 
malicious  purpose  in  its  fixed  gaze. 

The  Dago  Duke's  hands  and  feet  were  like  iee, 
while  the  cold  sweat  stood  in  beads  on  his  forehead. 
Then  he  screamed,  lie  had  ncit  intended  to  scream, 
but  the  monster  had  moved  toward  him,  hypnotizing 
him  with  its  stare.  He  could  see  clearly  the  poison- 
ous vapor  which  it  was  said  to  exhale!  He  screamed 
again  and  a  man's  scream  is  a  sound  not  to  be  for- 
gotten. The  Dago  Duke  "had  them,"  as  Crowheart 
phra.sed  it,  and  "had  them"  right. 

The  bartender  was  the  first  to  arrive  and  Van 
Ivennop  was  not  far  behind,  while  others,  hastily 
dressed,  followed. 

The  Dago  Duke  gripped  Van  Lennop's  hand  in 
dreadful  termor. 

"Don't  let  it  come  across  that  seam  in  the  carpet! 
Don't  let  it  come!" 

"I'll  not;  it  shan't  touch  you;  don't  be  afraid, 
old  man."  There  was  something  wonderfully  sooth- 
ing in  Van  Lennop's  r|uiet  voice. 

"I'll  tell  the  lady  doc  to  bounce  out,"  said  the 


U4> 


THE  I.ADY  DOC 


bartunder.  "lie's  got  'em  bad.  I  had  'em  twijt 
myself  and  took  the  cure.  It's  fierce.  He's  gotta 
have  some  dope— a  shot  o'  hop  will  fix  Kxi." 

The  bartender  hurried  aAvay  on  hi.s  kindly  mission, 
while  the  Dago  Duke  cling  to  Van  Lcunop  like  a 
horrified  child  to  its  mother. 

Dr.  Ilarpe  came  quickly,  her  hair  loose  about  her 
shoulders,  looking  younger  and  more  girlish  in  a  soft 
negligee  th;'a  Van  Lennop  had  ever  seen  her.  She 
saw  the  faint  shade  of  prejudice  cross  his  face  as  she 
entered,  but  satisfaction  was  in  her  own.  Her  chance 
had  come  at  last  in  this  unexpected  way. 

"Snakes,"  she  said  laconically. 

I* Yes."  Van  Lennop  replied  with  equal  brevity. 

'[y,^^  ^i'"^^'^  to  quiet  him.  Will  you  stay  with 
him?"    She  addressed  Van  Lennop, 

"Certainly." 

"Look  here,"  protested  the  bartender  in  an  in- 
jured voice,  "ir,.\s  my  best  friend  and  havin'  had 
snakes  myself " 

_   "Aw— clear  out-all  of  you.    We'll  take  care  of 
him." 

•'Folks  that   has   snakes  likes  their  bes'   friends 
around    'em."    declared    the    bartender    stubhornlv 
They  has  influence " 

"Oet  out."  reiterated  Dr.  Ilarpe  curtlv,  an.l  he 
finally  w,>nt  with  the  rest. 

"I'll  give  him  a  hypodermic,"  she  said  when  the 
room  was  cleared,  and  hastened  back  to  her  office  for 
the  needle. 

Together  they  watched  the  morphine  do  its  work 
and  sat  m  silence  while  the  wrecked  and  jandin- 
nerves  relaxed  and  sleep  came  to  the  unreirenerate 
L>ago  Duke. 


THE  OPENING  WEuGE 


1:^5 


Dr.  ILarpe's  impassive  face  ^'ave  no  indication  of 
the  activity  of  her  mind.  Now  that  the  opportunity 
to  "sfiuare  herself,"  to  use  her  own  words,  had 
arrived,  she  had  no  notion  of  letting  it  pass. 

' '  He  seems  in  a  bad  way,  '■ '  Van  Lennop  said  at  last 
in  a  formal  tone. 

"It  had  to  come— the  clip  he  was  poing,"  she 
replied,  seating  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  1^'d  and 
wiping  the  moisture  from  his  forehead  with  the  corner 
of  the  sheet 

The  action  was  womanly,  she  herself  looked  softer, 
more  womanly,  than  she  had  appeared  to  Van  Len- 
nop, yet  he  felt  no  relenting  and  wondered  at  himself. 

She  ended  another  silence  by  turning  to  him  sud- 
denly and  asking  with  something  of  a  child's  blunt 
candor — 

"You  don't  like  me,  do  you?" 

The  awkward  and  unexpected  question  surprised 
him  and  he  did  not  immediately  r  ly.  Ilis  first 
impulse  was  to  answer  with  a  bluntness  equal  to  her 
own,  but  he  cheeked  it  and  said  instead  — 

"One's  first  impressions  are  often  lasting  and  you 
must  admit.  Dr.  Ilarpe,  that  my  first  knowledge  of 
you " 

"Was  extremely  unfavorable,"  she  finished  for 
him.  "I  know  it."  She  laughed  in  embarrassment. 
"You  thought,  and  still  think,  that  I'm  one  of  these 
medicine  sharks— a  regular  money  grabber." 

Van  Lennop  replied  dryly — 

"I  do  not  recollect  ever  having  k-nown  another 
physician  quite  so  keen  about  his  fee." 

She  flushed,  but  went  on  determinediv — 

1  know  how  it  must  have  looked  to  you I've 

thought  of  it  a  thousand  times— but  there  were  ex- 


126 


THE  LADY  DOC 


touualinc:  circui.  ^laures.  1  came  here  'broke'  with 
only  ii  little  black  case  of  pills  and  a  ft-w  baudages. 
My  hotel  bill  was  uverdue  and  iny  little  drug  stock 
exhausted.  I  \v;is  'up  against  it' — desperate — and 
I  k'lieved  if  that  fellow  got  away  I'd  never  see  or 
hear  of  him  again.  I've  had  that  experience  and  I 
was  just  in  a  position  where  I  couldn't  alford  to  take 
a  chance.  There  isn't  much  practice  here,  it's  a  miser- 
ably healthful  place,  and  necessity  sometimes  makes  us 
seem  ■  jrdid  whether  we  are  or  not.  I'd  like  your 
gooil  opini(m.  Mv.  Van  Lennop.  Won't  you  try  and  see 
my  position  from  a  more  charitable  point  of  view?" 

He  wanted  to  be  fair  to  her,  he  intended  to  be  ju'^t, 
mid  yet  he  found  himself  only  able  to  say 

"I  can't  (piite  understand  how  you  could  find  it 
in  your  heart  even  to  hesitate  in  a  case  like  that." 

"  1  meant  to  do  it  in  the  end, "she  pleaded.  "  But 
I  was  wrong,  I  see  that  now,  and  I've  been  sorrier 
than  you  can  know.     I'lease  be  charitable." 

She  put  out  her  hand  impulsively  and  he  took  it- 
reluctant  ly.  He  wondered  why  she  repelled  him  so 
strongly  even  while  recognizing  the  odd  chai-m  of 
manner  which  was  undoubtedly  hers  when  she  chose 
to  display  it. 

"I  hope  we'll  be  good  friend.s,"  ehe  said 
earnestly. 

"I  trust  s..."  he  murmured,  but  in  his  heart  he 
knew  they  never  would  be  "good  friends." 


XII 


Their  P^ihht  Clash 

Tfe  Symes  Irrigation  Company  was  now  well 
undi-r  way.  The  application  for  segregation  of 
2U0,UU0  acres  of  irrigable  laud  had  been  granted. 
The  surveyors  had  tiuished  and  the  line  of  stakes 
stretching  away  across  the  hills  was  a  mecca  for 
Sunday  sight-seers.  The  contracts  for  the  moving  of 
dirt  from  the  intake  to  the  first  station  had  been 
let  and  when  the  first  furrow  was  ;  urned  and  the 
first  scoop  of  dirt  removed  from  the  excavation, 
Crowhoart  all  but  car'-ied  Amly  P.  Symes  on  its 
Khoulders. 

"Xothing  succeeds  like  success,"  he  was  wont 
to  tell  himself  frequently  but  without  bitterness  or 
resentment  for  previous  lack  of  appreciation.  He 
could  let  I)ygones  be  bygones,  for  it  was  easy  enough 
to  be  generous  in  the  hour  of  his  triumph. 

"lie  had  it  in  him,"  one-time  sceptics  admitted. 

"Blood  will  tell,"  declared  his  supporters  em- 
phatically and  there  was  now  no  dissenting  voice 
to  the  oft-repeated  aphorism. 

Symes  moved  among  his  satellites  with  that  be- 
nign unbinding  which  is  a  recognized  attribute  of  the 
truly  great.  The  large  and  opulent  air  which  for- 
merly he  had  assumed  when  most  in  need  of  credit  was 
now  habitual,  but  his  patronage  was  regarded  as  a 
favor;  indeed  the  Crowheart  Mercantile  Company 
considered  it  the  longest  step  in  its  career  when  the 
commissary  of  the  Symes  Irrigation  Company  owed  it 
nearly  $7000. 

127 


128 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Conditions    cliaiigcd    rapidly    in    Crowhcail    once 
work  actually  began.     The  call  Tor  laborers  brought 

a   new   dud   strange   class   of   i)e()j)le   to   its  streets 

swarthy,  challering  jxTsons  with  long  backs  and 
short  legs,  of  frugal  habits,  yet.  after  ail,  leaving  much 
silver  in  the  town  on  the  Saturday  night  which  fol- 
lowed p.ivday. 

Symes's   domestic    life   \va.s   moving   as   smoothly 
and  as  satisfactorily  as  his  Inisiriess  affairs.     A  life- 
time seemed  to  lie  between  that  memorable  journey 
•  '11    the    "Main    Line"    with    Au-:usta   in    her   Itrown 
bas<|iie  and  dreadful  hat,  and  the  {.resent.     She  was 
improving  wonderfully.     Jle  had  to  admit  that.    "No, 
sir,"   he    told    himself    occasionally.    "Augusta    isn't 
half  Iiad."     Her  unconce;ded  adoraiion  and  devotion 
to  himself  IukI  awakened  affection  in  return,  at  least 
her  gaucheries  no  longer  exasperated  him   and   thev 
were  dailv  growing  less.     Dr.  Harp.-  li.id  been  right 
when  she  had  told  him  that  Augu.sta  was  as  imitative 
as  a  parrot,  and  he  often  snnled   to  himself  at  her 
affectations,  directly  traceable  to  her  dilig(>nf  perusal 
of  The  Ladiis'  Own  and  the  colujnn  devote.]  to  the 
queries  of  troubled  social  a.spirants.    While  it  amused 
him  lie  aiiproved.  for  an  imitation  lady  was  better 
than    the    franldy   impossible    girl    he    had    married. 
Something  of  this  was  in  his  nund  while  engaged  one 
day  in  the  absorbing  occupation  of  buttoning  Mrs. 
Symes's  blouse  up  the  back. 

He  raised  his  head  at  the  sound  of  a  step  on  the 
narrow  porch. 
"Who's  that?" 
"Dr.  ILirpe." 
"What-again?" 
There  was  a  suspicion  of  irritation  in  his  voice, 


THEIR  FIRST  CLASH 


129 


for  now  that  he  came  to  think  of  it,  he  and  Aujjusta 
had  not  dined  alone  a  sinprle  evoninj?  that  vveeli. 
"What  of  it?     Do  you  mind,  Phidias?" 
"Oh,  no;  only  isn't  sho  crowding  the  mourners 
a  little?     Isn't  she  rather  regular?" 

"I  asked  her,"  Mrs.  Symes  replied  uneasily. 
"It's  all  right;   I'm  not  complaining — only  why 
don't  you  ask  some  one  else  occasionally?" 

"I  don't  want  them,"  she  answered  bluntly. 
"The  best  of  rea.si)ns,  .ay  dear,"  and  Symes  turned 
away    to    complete    his    own    toilet    while    Augusta 
hastened  out  of  the  room  to  greet  the  Doctor. 

Symes  wondered  if  the  installation  of  a  meal 
ticket  system  at  the  Terriberry  House  had  anything 
to  (Jo  with  the  frequency  with  which  lie  foimd  Dr. 
Harpe  at  liis  table,  and  was  immediately  ashamed  of 
himself  for  the  thought.  It  recalled,  however,  an 
incident  which  had  amused  him,  though  it  had 
since  slipped  his  mind.  II,.  had  found  a  pie  in  his 
writing  desk  and  had  asked  Grandma  Kunkel,  who 
still  formed  a  part  of  his  uui-iue  menage,  for  an 
explanation. 

"I'm  hidin  'it,"  she  had  answered  shortly. 

"From  whom?" 

"Dr.  ITarpe.  I  have  to  do  it  if  I  want  anything 
for  the  ne.xt  meal.  .She  helps  herself.  She's  got  an 
awful  appetite." 

He  had  lauglied  at  the  time  at  her  injured  tone 
and  angry  eyes  and  he  smiled  now  at  the  recollection. 
It  was  obvious  that  she  did  not  like  Dr.  Harpe,  and 
be  was  not  sure,  be  could  not  exactly  say,  that  be  liked 
her  himself,  or  rather,  he  did  not  entirely  like  this 
sudden  and  violent  intimacy  between  her  and  Au- 
gusta, which  brought  her  so  constantly  to  the  house. 

9 


i:iO 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Sonio  tim."  he  iiu'iiiit  to  ask  Grandmother  Kunkcl  why 
she  Ko  rcscntfd  Dr.  Harpe'    i)re.s<Mi('c. 

1):-.  Iljirpc  was  scatc'd  in  a  imrch  ehnir,  ivith  one 
le^'  thrown  ovr  the  ana,  swin^'ini,'  her  dantrlin^'  foot, 
when  .Mrs.  Synies  appeared.  She  turned  lier  head 
and  eyed  her  critically,  a.s  she  stood  in  tlie  (hjoi'way. 
'Tins,  you're  >rettin'  to  be  a  hioker." 
Mrs.  Synics  smiled  with  pleasure  at  the  com- 
plinx'nt. 

"You  are  for  a  fact;  that's  a  nifty  way  you  have 
of  doin'  your  hair  and  you  walk  a.s  if  you  had  some 
qtuiiption.     Come  hei-e.  (Jus. " 

Dr.  Harpe  jiushcd  her  unpinned  Stet.son  to  the 
back  of  her  head  with  a  careless  <jresture;  it  was  a 
nian'.s  j^esture  and  her  strontr  hand  heiieath  the  stilt' 
cuff  of  her  tailored  .shirtwaist  stren<,'thencd  the  im- 
pression of  ma.sculinity. 

She  arose  and  motioned  Mrs.  Symos  to  take  tli'^ 
chair  she  had  vacated  while  she  seated  herself  iipon 
the  ;irm. 

"^Vhere  liave  yen  Iteen  all  day?"  There  was 
reproach  in  .Mrs.  Symes's  dark  eyes  a.s  sIk^  raised  them 
to  the  woman's  face. 

"Have  you  missed  me?"  A  Taint  smile  curved 
Dr.  llari)e'.'?  lips. 

':\lisscd  yon!  I'v..  l)C(>n  so  nervous  and  restless 
all  day  tliaf  T  couldn't  sit  still." 

''AVhy  didn't  y,iu  come  over  to  the  hotel?"  Dr. 
Harpe  w;i.s  watchin^:  her  troubled  face  intently. 

"I  wan+ed  to— T  wanted  to  go  so  much  that  T 
determined  not  to  trive  in  to  the  feeling.  Really  it 
iriiihtened  me." 

Dr.  Harpe 's  eyes  looked  a  muddy  green,  like  the 
sea  when  it  washes  amonir  the  piling-. 


THEIR   Fllisr  CLASH 


131 


I 


''I'crh.ips  I  was  wishiuf,'  lor  y,m~irillin>j  ymi  to 
come. " 

"Wcrv  you?  I  tVlt  as  thi)iii,'li  .somcfliinr'  was 
itH,/n)i!f  me  iro,  makinc:  me  almost  a'/aiust  my  will,  ami 
(■ach  time  T  stalled  towani  tln'  clo(»i-  I  simply  had  to 
Tone  myself  to  k<)  bark.  1  eau't  explain  .'.xaetly,  hut 
it  was  so  stratii^e. " 

"Very  stran^'e.  Ciis."  Her  ey<"s  now  held  a 
eurious  .deam.  "Hut  the  ne.xt  time  you  want  to  eome 
— comi .  do  you  lii-ar.'     I  shall  h.-  wishim,'  for  you." 

"liut  why  did  you  stay  away  all  day?'' 

"I  wanted  to  Mr  if  you  would  miss  me— how 
nuieh. " 

'"I  was  miserably  lonrsom.'.     Don't  do  it  again 

please ! " 

"You  liave  your  Phidias."  There  wa.s  a  sneer  in 
her  voice. 

"Oil.  yes."  .AFrs.  Symes  responded  simply,  "but 
hf>  has  been  <,'one  all  day." 

"All  day!  Dreadful— how  very  sad!"  8ho 
lau-hed  disa^'reeahly.  "And  are  you  still  so  des- 
perately in  love  with  Phidias?" 

"Of  course.  Why  not?  He's  very  good  to  me. 
Did  you  imairine  I  wa.s  not  ?'' 

"Oh,  no."  the  other  returned  carelesisly. 

"Then  why  did  you  ask?" 

"Xo  reason  at  all  except  that— I  like  you  prettv 
well  myself.  Clothes  have  been  the  making  of  you, 
Gus.     You're  an  attractive  woman  now." 

.Airs.  Symes  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  unusual 
compliment  from  Doctor  Harpe. 

''Am  I?    Keally?" 
1  ou  are.     I  like  women  anyhow ;  men  bore  me 
mostly.      I    had    a    desperate    'eru.sh'    at    boarding- 


132 


Tin:   I  ADV   DOC 


school,  l.ut  shr  ,|uit  nic  c.l.l  whrn  sli,>  marrinl.  IV,. 
lakrn  a  -ivaf  shiiir  t..  you,  (ins;  an,!  tlRTf's  on...  thin- 
you  luusfn't   rnrt,'t't." 

^'What's  Uiat""  Mrs.  Sym.-s  ask.-d,  smilintr. 
"I'm  j<'alous--or  y,,ur  Phidias." 
"n..n-  ahsur.l!"  .Mrs.  Symrs  lau-h^d  aloud. 
"I  mean  it.-     Dr    HaqH.  .spokv  li^^htlv  an.l  then^ 
wa.s  a  sn.il,.   up.m  h.r  strai-ht   lij.s,   but  carne.stuf.ss, 
a  kind  of  uarnin^'.  was  in  her  i-ycs. 

A  .-latt.-r  of  tinwan.  at  th.-  kitch^'u  windnu- 
J.ttrarted  .Symes's  attention  -.us  ,,■  cani.-  IVon,  the 
bedroom. 

"Wliafs  the  jriatter.  grandmother?"  he  a.sked  in 
the  t.-asin^r  tone  he  .sometimes  ti.s.-d  i„  .speakin-  to 
hiT.     ".\".,t  the  eookin<r  sherry.  I  hope." 

.She  did  not  snn'Ie  at  his  badinage. 

"There's  enoufrh  drinkin'  in  this  house  without 
Jn.v  hel]  ,     ..ihe  returned  sharply. 

^^     "What    do    you    mean?"    Symes's    eyes    opened 
Are  ydu  serious?" 

Til.-  .|uestion  he  saw  was  superfluous. 

"It's  nothin'  I'd  j„ke  about." 

"V..U  ania/e  m...  Do  you  mean  Augu.sta— 
druiks?" 

"Too  mueh. " 

"By  h.'rself?" 

"No;  always  with  Dr.  llarpe.  Dr.  Ilarpe  .Irinks 
I'kc  a  man-that  size."  She  held  up  signilieant 
nufrers. 

Symes  frowned. 

"T  kn..w  that  Dr.  Ilarpe 's  sentiments  ar(^  nnt- 
cr— stnetly  temperance,  but  Augusta— this  is  news  to 
me,  and  I  don't  like  it."    He  thrust  his  hands  deep  in 


^ 


TIIKIK   I'lHST  CLASH 


13.3 


his  trousers  {)ncl<rts  and  ii'.in.'d  liis  sIkhiIiLt  a.^'aitut 

till'  (luor  jjunl). 

"  When  dill  this  cniiuin'iicu'.'" 

"With  th.'  ('(.iiiiu'  of  that  woman  to  (his  lioiisi;." 

'■It"s  curious — I've  Ufvcr  notii-fd  it." 

" 'i'ht'V  "vc  takiti  .arc  of  that.     Shr's  a-   riuisauc.-.  " 

"You  don't  likf  Dr.  Ilarpe.'"     Watchinu'  lirr  face, 

Synics  saw  the  chanL.'''  whicli  tlaslicl  ov.-r  it  with  his 

•  lucstion. 

"Kik.'  hrr!  I,ik.>  Dr.  Ilarpc?"  Sh.-  took  a  st.-p 
toward  liiin.  and  tlic  intensity  in  her  voic-  startled 
liim.  Her  little  ^--ray  eyes  seemed  to  dart  sparks  as 
she  answen'd — 'l  come  nearer  liatin'  her  than  I  ever 
have  any  human  hein'!" 

"But  why?"  he  |)ei-sisted.  P.-rhaps  in  her  answer 
he  wouM  find  an  answer  to  the  que.stion  he  had 
but  recently  asked  hims<dC. 

There  was  confusion  in  the  old  woman's  eyes  as 
they  fell  before  his. 

"Because."  she  answered  finally,  with  a  tighten- 
ing of  her  lips. 

"There's  no  definite  rejison  ?  Xothing  except 
your  prejudice  and  this  matter  you've  mentioned?" 

A  red  spot  burned  on  either  withered  cheek.  She 
hesitated. 

"N'o;  T  guess  not."  she  said,  and  turned  away. 

"If  T  thought  for  a  moment  that  her  influence 
over  Augusta  was  not  good  I'd  i)ut  an  end  to  this 
intimacy  at  onee;  but  I  suppose  it's  natural  that  she 
should  desire  some  woman  friend  and  it  seems  only 
reasonable  to  believe  that  a  professional  woman  would 
be  a  better  companion  than  that  illiterate  Parrott 
creature  or  the  tittering  Starrs."  Symes  shifted  his 
broad  shoulders  to  the  opposite  aide  of  the  door  .and 


4 


134 


Tin:  LADY  DOC 


liis  IniH-  was  thr  .ssciicf  (.f  complaccri.-y  ;is  ho  went 
oil 

'"^'■-^.  il'  I  Ii.-hI  the  slia.L.w  of  ii.  iviisoii  f,,r  for- 
M.i.liii-  tins  silly  .vh,M.|oirl  rrirn,ls|,,p  J  M  .t.-p  it 
•  liiicli. " 

Til-  nl,l  wnlnairs  lips  1\visl,.,l  i„  ;,  r,.,i„fl^.  CN-uical 
Slllili'. 

'■.\ii(l  .MiiM  \\mV' 

S.vi.u's  l.ni-hc.l.  Xothin^,  f,,„|.|  i,,,^,,.  ,,^,,.„  ^^^^^^^^ 
prcposfcrous  than  fli,.  su-'cstiuu  tiiat  his  .-nntn,!  over 
Au;:ii.stii  was  not  ahsdlutf. 

"Why,  certainly.     I  „„.a„  t,>  sp,.ak  1,.  Au-u.ta  at 
""<■'•    "1    n-ani    to    this    matter    ..f    ,lrinki„u-.       l\o 
lU'V.T    ai.prow.I    „r    it    r,,,.    ,v,,.nrr..      Then'    arv    two 
tlunjrs   that    ..ann.,t    h.   .].ni...|-Au-usta    is  ohr.li.nt 
.•'n.l  shr.'s  truthful."    Jlis  ;     ,,1-natun.  n'sfon-.l  |,v  th,- 
''<"'<'''"l'l.''tio„   „f  fln.se  facts,   hr  1urn,.,l   awav  (h-ter- 
•".""•<1  t"  'l-mo.istratr  his  .-.uifr..!  .,f  th.  situa'ti<.n  for 
his  own  an<l   the  ,.kl  w.muin  s  h-nWit  at   th.  -arlirst 
opportunity.     In  fa.-t,  the  prrs-nt  wa.s  as  ^m.o.I  as  anv 
Ilr   ualk,.,l   to  the   ,i,.nr  opminj,^  upo„   the   ,,on-h 
when.  I),..  Il,rp,.  still  sat  on  th.  arm  of  the  ehair,  her 
hand  restinir  u[)nn  Au-usta's  shoul,h-r. 

''One  nioni.nt.  Au-usta.  if  von  please  " 
8h.|  arose  at  onee  with  a  sli.l,tly  in„uirin,^  look 
and  tol lowed  liim  inside. 

"I  have  reason  to  hHieve,  o;-  nith...-  to  know  that 
you  have  fallen  inf.  Ih-  way  of  doin,^  something,  of 
whieh  I  do  not  at  al.  approve."  he  bejran.  "I  mean 
dnnkin^  Augusta  T  's  nothin,  serious,  T  am  aware 
of  that.  It  s  only  that  I  do  not  like  it.  so  obli^re  me  by 
not  domj?  that  sort  of  thin"  a<'ain  "  Tt;..  +« 
kindly  but  tinal.  '^  "''  *^^'  ''^" 

He  expected  to  see  contrition  in  Auirnsta's  f... 


THEIR   rmST  (LASH 


i;3.-) 


hor  iisii;il  ix'iiif.'iii'f  lur  mistakt-s ;  iti.stf;iil  of  wliirli 
thoro  was  a  snll.-n  rrsriitiiicnt  in  tlir  L'laiicc  sli.-  lla-sln.-J 
at  him  from  her  dark  eyes. 

"It's  true,  isu't  it?  You  <!o  not  imau  to  <icny 
it?" 

"Xo." 

''You  inli'Tid  fo  rospoof  my  ;vis]i.^<i.  of  f>onrso?" 
"Of  oours.'."     Slic  turruMl  from  lr::i  abruptly  ami 
uiiit    back   to  till'   porch. 

'I'lic  action  was  uiiliicf  her.  He  was  still  Ihiukini; 
of  it  wlini  he  put  ou  his  hat  and  w.rit  down  town  to 
atti'iui  to  an  ormnd  before  dinner. 

As  the  fjate  swung  behind  liim  Dr.  JIari)o  said 
unpleasantly — 

"  ^'ou  Were  i-aked  over  the  coals,  rli,  (ins?" 
Mrs.  Symes  flush(>d  in  discomfiture. 
"Oh,  no — not  exactly." 

"Oh.  yes,  you  were.  Don't  deny  it;  you're  as 
transparent  as  a  window-i)ane.     What  was  it?" 

"lie  has  found  out— some  one  has  told  him  that 
wo — that  1  hav(!  been  driukintr  occjusionally. " 

"That  old  woman."  Dr.  Ilarpe  jerked  her  head 
contemptuously  toward  the  kitchen. 

"I'robal)ly  it  was  j,'randma— .she  doesn't  like  it, 
I'm  sure,  for  I  never  was  allowed  to  do  anythin<?  of 
the  sort:  in  fact,  I  never  thought  of  it  or  cared  to." 

"You  are  a  free  human  bein^,  aren't  you?  You 
can  do  what  you  like?'' 

"I've  always  preferred  to  do  what  Phidias  liked 
since  we've  been  married." 

"Phidias!  Phidias!  You  make  me  tired!  You 
talk  like  a  peon!" 

Her  hand  rested  heavily  upon  Mrs.  Symos's  shoul- 
der.     "Assert  yourself — don't  be  a  fool!     T.et '=.  hnv^- 


186 


THE  LADY  DOC 


a  drink."     :Mrs.  Symes  winced  under  her  tij,'htenin^ 
grip. 

"Oh.  no,  no,"  she  replied  hastily.  "Phidias 
would  he  furious.     I— I  wouldn't  dare." 

"[.ook  here."  She  took  Mrs.  Symes *s  (hin  in  her 
hand  and  raised  her  face,  lookintr  deep  into  her  eyes. 
"Won't  you  do  it  for  ine?  heeause  I  ask  you?" 

"I  can't."  There  wa,s  an  appeal  in  her  eyes  as 
she  lifted  them  to  the  deternined  face  above  her. 

"You  can      You  iciU.     Do  you  want  me  to  stay 
away  a^'ain?" 
"Xo,  no.  no!" 

"Then  do  what  I  ask  ^  on— just  this  once,  and  I'll 
not  ask  it  a<rain."  She  saw  the  weakening  in  the 
other  Woman's  face.    "Come  on,"  .she  urged. 

^rrs.  Symes  rose  mechanically  with  a  doubting, 
dazed  expression  and  Dr.  Ilarpe  followed  her  inside.' 
Throughout  the  constraint  of  the  dinner  Dr.  Ilarpe 
sat  with  a  lurking  smile  upon  her  face.  The  domestic 
storm  she  had  raised  had  been  iirompted  solely  by 
one  of  those  impulses  of  deviltry  which  she  seemed 
sometimes  unable  to  restrain.  It  was  not  the  part, 
of  wisdom  to  antagonize  Symes,  but  her  desire  to  con- 
vince him.  and  Augusta,  and  herself,  that  h.-rs  was 
the  stronger  will  when  it  came  to  a  test,  was  greater 
than  her  discretion.  This  wa.s  an  occasion  when  she 
could^  not  resist  the  temptation  to  show  her  power, 
and  Symes  with  his  eyes  shining  ominously  found  her 
illy-concealed  smirk  of  amusement  and  triumph  far 
harder  to  bear  than  Augusta's  tittering,  half-hysteri- 
cal defiance. 

When  she  had  gone  and  Symes  had  closed  the 
door  of  their  sleeping  apartment  behind  hiim  he 
turned  to  Augusta. 


THEIR  FIRST  CLASH 


1J37 


I 


"Well,  -what  explanation  have  you  to  make?" 

The  cold  inter rofrat ion  bro\if,'ht  her  to  herself 
like  a  dash  of  Avater. 

"Oh,  Phidias!"  she  whimpered,  and  sank  down 
upon  the  edjre  of  the  bed,  rolling'  her  handkerchief 
into  a  ball  between  her  palms,  like  an  abashed  and 
frightened  child. 

Her  nncertiiin  di^^nity,  lier  veneer  of  breedinf» 
dropped  from  her  like  a  cloak  and  she  was  a^rain  the 
])lacksmith's  sister,  self-conscious,  awed  and  tonf,'ue- 
tied  in  the  imposinfr  presence  of  Andy  P.  Symes. 
ll"r  prominent  knees  visible  beneath  her  thin  skirt, 
her  il;it  feet  sprawling  at  an  awkward  angle,  uncon- 
sciouslv  added  to  Symes 's  anger.  '  She  looked,  he 
thought,  like  a  terrified  servant  that  has  broken  the 
cut-glass  berry  bowl.  Yet  subconsciously  he  was 
aware  that  he  was  wounded  deeper  than  his  vanity 
by  her  disregard  of  his  wishes. 
"I  insist  upon  an  answer." 

''I — I  haven't  any  answer  excepi — that — that  I'm 
sorry. ' ' 

"Did  you  drink  at  Dr.  Ilarpe's  suggestion?"  he 
demanded  in  growing  wrath. 

She  wadded  the  handkerchief  ])et\veen  her  palms 
and  swallowed  hard  before  she  shook  her  head. 

"No." 

"She  should  never  come  here  again  if  I  thought 
you  were  not  telling  me  the  truth." 

Agitation  leaped  into  her  eyes  beneath  their  low- 
ered lids  and  she  blurted  in  a  kind  of  desperation — 

"But  I  am — it  was  my  fault, — I  suggested  it — she 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it!" 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you  have  no  intention 
of  respecting  my  wishes  in  this  maiter?" 


138 


THE  LADY  DOC 


She  arose  sudtleuly  and  began  weepinij  upon  hia 
shoulder.  The  action  and  her  tears  softened  him  a 
little. 

"Am  I,  Augusta?" 

"No:  I'll  never  do  it  again — honest  truly." 

"Thai's  enough,  then — we'll  say  no  more  about  it. 
This  is  a  small  matter  eomparatively,  but  it  is  our 
first  clash  and  we  must  understand  each  other.  Where 
questions  arise  which  concern  your  welfare  and  mine 
you  must  abide  by  n)y  judgment,  and  this  is  one  of 
them.  I  am  old-fashioned  in  my  ideas  concerning 
women,  or,  rather,  concerning  the  woman  that  is  my 
wife,  and  1  do  not  like  tiie  notion  of  your  drinking 
alone  or  with  another  woman;  with  anyoiu^  else,  in 
fact,  except  when  you  are  with  me— and  then  moder- 
ately. Personally,  I  like  a  womanly  woman;  Dr. 
Ilarpe  is— amusing— ])ut  I  should  not  care  to  sec 
yon  imitate  her.  One  does  not  fancy  eccentricity  in 
one's  wife.  Tlicr,',  11i('i-(>,"  li(»  kissed  her  magnani- 
mously, "now  we'll  forget  this  ever  happened." 


xiir 


Essie  Tisdale's  Colors 

Essie  Tisdale's  ostracism  was  practically  com- 
plete, her  position  was  all  that  even  Dr.  llarpe  could 
desire,  yet  it  left  that  person  unsatisfied.  There  was 
somethinjr  in  the  girl  she  could  not  crush,  but  more 
dis(juieting  than  that  was  the  fact  that  her  isolation 
seemed  only  to  cement  the  friendship  between  her 
and  Van  Lennop,  wiiih.-  her  own  j)i'ogressed  no  farther 
than  a  bowing  acfiuaintance.  His  imperturbable 
politeness  formed  a  barrier  she  was  too  wise  to  attempt 
to  cross  initil  auother  opportune  time  arrived.  But 
she  fretted  none  the  less  and  her  eagerness  to  know 
him  better  increased  with  the  delay. 

She  hail  pknty  of  time,  too,  in  which  to  fret,  for 
her  practice  wa.s  far  from  what  she  desired,  owing  to 
the  climate,  the  exasperating  heaithfulness  of  which 
she  so  freciuently  lamented,  aiid  the  arrival  of  a  pale 
personality  named  Lamb  who  somehow  had  managed 
to  pass  the  State  Board  of  Medical  Examiners.  The 
only  gratifying  feature  of  her  present  life  was  the 
belief  that  Essie  Tisdale  was  feeling  keenly  her 
altered  position  in  Crowheart.  The  girl  gave  no  out- 
ward sign,  yet  Dr.  llarpe  knew  that  it  must  be  so. 

The  change  in  people  Essie  Tisdale  had  known 
Avell  was  so  gradual,  so  elusive,  so  difficult  of  descrip- 
tion that  in  her  brighter  moments  she  told  herself 
that  it  was  imaginary  and  due  to  her  own  supersensi- 
tiveness.  But  it  was  not  for  long  that  she  could  so 
Cf>nvinee  herself,  for  her  intuitions  were  too  sure  to 
admit  of  her  going  far  astray  in  her  conclusions. 

139 


140 


THE  LADY  DOC 


She  detected  the  note  of  uneasiness  in  Mrs.  Percy 
Parrott's  hysterical  mirth  when  they  met  in  public, 
althoufjh  she  was  entirely  herself  if  no  one  was  about. 
The  Percy  Porrotts,  with  nearly  .$400  in  the  bank 
to  their  credit,  were  climbing  rapidly,  and  Mrs.  Par- 
rott  lost  no  opportunity  to  explain  how  dreadfully 
shocked  mamma  was  when  she  learned  that  her  only 
dau-rhter  was  doiu<r  her  own  work— :\Irs.  Parrott 
beinf?  still  in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  local  sleuths 
had  learned  to  a  certainty  that  Mrs.  Parrott  formerly 
h;id  lived  on  a  str<>et  where  the  male  residents  left 
with  their  dinner  i)ails  when  the  whistle  bh  -."  in  the 
morning. 

Essie  Tisdalo  saw  Mrs.  Alva  Jackson's  furtive 
glances  toward  the  Symes's  home  when  they  met  for 
a  moment  on  the  street  and  she  interpreted  correctly 
the  trend  of  events  when  Mrs.  Abe  Tutts  ceased  to 
invite  her  to  "run  in  and  set  a  spell." 

Pearline  and  Planchette  Starr  no  longer  laid  their 
arms  about  her  shoulders  and  there  was  constraint  in 
the  voices  of  the  young.'r  sisters,  Lucille  and  Camille 
when  they  sang  out  "  Hullo"  on  their  way  to  school. 

The  only  persons  in  whom  Essie  could  detect  no 
change  were  "Hank"  and  .\rrs.  Terriberry,  the  latter 
herself  clinging  desperately  to  the  fringe  of  Crow- 
heart's  social  life,  determined  that  no  ordinary  jar 
should  shake  her  loose. 

Van  Lennop  himself  saw.  since  Essie  had  made  the 
situation  clear  to  him,  the  patronizing  manner  of  her 
erstwhile  friends,  the  small  discourtesies,  the  petty 
slights,  and  he  found  springing  up  within  him  a  feel- 
ing  of  partisanship  so  vigorous  as  frequently  to  sur- 
prise himself.  Were  they  really  so  ignorant, 'so  blind, 
lie  asked  himself,  a.s  to  be  unaL.e  to  see  that  the  girl,' 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  COLORS 


141 


regardless  of  her  occupation  or  antecedents,  had  a 
distinction  of  mind  and  manner  which  they  could 
never  hope  to  achieve?  Of  her  parentage  he  knew 
nothing,  for  she  seldom  talked  of  herself,  but  he  felt 
there  was  breeding  somewhere  to  account  for  her 
clean,  bright  mind,  the  shapeliness  of  her  hands,  the 
slender  feet  and  ankles  and  that  rare  carriage  of  her 
head.  Imigrant  stock,  he  a-ssured  himself,  did  not 
produce  small  pink  ears,  short  upper  lips,  and  a  grace 
as  natural  as  an  antelope's. 

But  it  was  a  small  thing  in  itself — it  is  nearly 
always  small  things  which  precipitate  great  ones — that 
at  last  stirred  Van  Lennop  to  his  depth. 

They  were  riding  that  afternoon  and  the  saddle 
horses  were  at  the  long  hitching  post  in  front  of  the 
hotel  when  Syraes  came  down  the  street  as  Essie 
stepped  from  the  doorway.  She  bowed  as  he  passed, 
while  Van  Lennop  mechanically  raised  his  hat.  The 
half-burnt  cigar  staj'ed  in  +he  corner  of  Symes's 
mouth,  his  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets,  and  his 
grudging  nod  was  an  insult,  the  greater  that  a  few 
steps  on  he  lifted  his  hat  with  a  sweeping  bow 
to  Mrs.  Alva  Jackson. 

Van  Lennop 's  face  reddened  under  its  tan. 

"Does  he — do  that  often?"  His  voice  was  quiet, 
but  there  was  a  quaver  in  it. 

"Often,"  Essie  Tisdale  answered. 

They  galloped  out  of  town  in  silence.  The  incident 
seemed  to  have  robbed  the  day  of  its  brightness  for 
the  girl  and  a  frown  rested  upon  Van  Lennop 's 
usually  calm  face.  They  often  rode  in  silence,  but 
it  was  the  silence  of  comradeship  and  understanding; 
it  was  nothing  like  this  which  was  lasting  for  a  mile 
or  more.    She  made  an  effort  at  speech  after  awhile, 


142 


THE  LADY  DOC 


but  it  was  plainly  an  efl'ort,  and  be  answered  in 
monosyllables.  She  glanced  at  bira  sideways  once  or 
twice  and  she  saw  that  bis  eyes  were  narrowed  in 
thought  and  their  graj-ness  was  steel. 

When  the  town  was  lost  to  sight  and  their  horses 
bad  dropped  to  a  walk  on  the  sandy  road  which 
stretched  to  the  horizon,  Essie  turned  in  her  saddle 
and  looked  behind  her. 

"I  wish  ffc  were  never  going  back!"  she  said  im- 
pulsively. "I  bate  it  all!  1  wish  we  were  going  on 
and  on — anywhere — but  back — don't  you?" 

His  eyes  were  upon  her  as  she  spoke,  and  be  had 
no  notion  how  they  softened,  while  her  color  rore  at 
something  in  his  voice  as  he  answered — 

"I  can  imagine  worse  things  in  life  than  riding 
'on  and  on'  with  Essie  Tisdale.  But"— bis  tone 
took  on  a  new  and  vigorous  inflection — "I  want  to  go 
back.  I  want  to  stay.  A.t  a  matter  of  fact  I'm 
just  getting  int.n>sted  in  Crowbeart." 

She  looked  at  him  questioningly  and  then 
explained — 

"It  couldn't  be,  of  course;  I  was  oiny  wishing, 
but  you  don't  understand  quite— about  things." 

lie  s})oke  i)romptly — 

"I  think  I  do— far  better  than  you  believe— and 
I've  about  made  up  my  mind  to  take  a  hand  myself. 
I  cannot  well  be  less  chivalrous,  less  loyal  than  you." 

She  looked  puzzled,  but  be  did  not  explain  that 
be  had  overheard  her  valiant  defence  of  himself  to 
old  Edouard  Dubois. 

"You're  not  vindictive,  are  you?" 

She  shook  her  bead. 

"I  think  not,  but  I  am  wlnt  is  just  as  bad,  per- 
haps— terribly  unforgiving. " 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  COLORS 


143 


"Even  your  beloved  Stevenson  was  not  too  meek," 
he  reminded  her.  "Do  you  remember  his  essay 
'Ordered  South'?" 

She  nodded. 

"If  I  am  qnotint;  correctly,  he  says  in  speal<ing  of 
a  man's  duties:  'lie,  as  a  living  man,  has  some  to 
help,  some  to  love,  some  to  correct ;  it  may  be,  some  to 
punish.'  And,"  he  was  speaking  to  himself  now 
rather  than  to  her,  "the  spirit  of  retaliation  is  strong 
within  me." 

She  answered,  "They've  been  very  unjust  to  you, 
but  I  did  not  think  you'd  noticed." 

lie  laughed  aloud. 

"To  me?  Do  you  think  I'd  trouble  myself  for 
anything  they  might  say  or  do  to  me?" 

Her  eyes  widened — 

"You  don't  mean  because  of " 

"You?  Exactly.  Aren't  we  friends — the  best 
of  friends— Essie  Tisdale?" 

The  quick  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"Sometimes,"  she  answered  chokingly,  "I  think 
you  are  my  only  friend. ' '  She  continued, ' '  And  that  'a 
the  reason  I  want  you  to  be  careful.  Don't  resent 
anything  on  my  account " 

"That's  the  privilege  of  friendship,"  he  answered 
with  a  reassuring  smile.  "But  why  be  careful — of 
whom?"  There  was  some  curtness  in  his  voice, 
"Symes?" 

"Yes— of  Symes." 

"And  why  Symes?" 

"You  must  remember  that  you  are  in  a  country 
where  the  people  arc  poor  and  struggling.  Money  is 
power,  and  influence,  and  friends.  He  has  all,  and 
we  have  neither.    I  appreciate  your  reasons,  and  am 


144 


THE  LADY  DOC 


more  grateful  than  I  can  tell  you.  but  vou  would  only 
hurt  yourself,  and  Andy  P.  Symes  cannot  be- 
reached;  is  that  the  word?" 

Van  I.cnnop's  lips  twitched  ever  so  slightly  and 
he  turned  his  head  away  that  siie  nii^dit  not  see  (he 
betrayinf,'  twinkle  which  he  felt  was  in  his  eyes. 
When  his  face  was  quite  grave  again,  he  replied— 

"Yes,  'reached'  is  the  word,  but  there  are  few  of  us 
who  cannot  be  reached  when  it  conies  to  that,  for 
somewhere  there  is  some  one  who  has  the  'long  arm.'  " 
Once  more  the  shadow  of  a  smile  rested  upon  his  lips 
''I  still  believe  that  Andy  I>.  Symes  might  be 
reached.'  " 

"But,"  she  argued,  "it  is  his  privilege  to  with- 
draw his  friendship,  if  he  likes." 

"But  not  his  privilege  to  treat  you  with  di.sre- 
spect-to  insult  you  both  openly  and  covertly.  I  like 
fair  play,  and  Synu's  fights  with  a  woman's  weapons 
Listen,  Kiisie  Tisdale.  I  mean  from  now  on  to  wear 
your  colors  in  the  arena  where  men  fight— the  arena 
where  I  have  moderately  indulged  mv  combative  pro- 
chvities  with  the  weapons  I  know  best  how  to  use— 
tlie  arena  where  there  is  no  quarter  given  or  received 
The  most  satisfying  n>taliation  is  to  make  monev  out 
ot  your  enemies.  Concentrate  your  encnn--  don't 
waste  It  in  wonls.     Allow  me  to  add  to  mv  income  " 

He  concluded  with  a  whimsical  smile.  Imt  she  had 
been  studying  his  face  wonderingly  as  he  talked  for 
It  wore  an  expressi..n  wl.i,.h  wa.s  nrw  to  her  The 
keen,  worldly  look  of  a  man  of  affairs  when  his  mind 
reverts  to  business  had  come  into  his  eves  and  his 
voice  was  curt,  assured,  eontaining  the  unconscious 
authority  of  one  who  knows  his  power. 

Essie  Tisdale -s  knowledge  of  the  world  was  too 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  COLORS  us 

limited  for  her  to  entirely  grasp  the  significance  of  his 
words;  she  felt,  rather,  the  chivalry  which  inspired 
them,  that  spirit  of  defence  of  the  weaker  which  lies 
close  to  the  surface  in  all  good  men. 

She  put  out  her  hand  with  a  gesture  of  protest. 

"Don't  antagonize  him.  Your  friendship  and 
your  sympathy  are  enough.  To  know  that  vou  are  too 
big,  too  strong,  to  be  influenced  by  the  reasons  which 
have  made  cowards  of  those  upon  whom  I  counted,  is 
all  I  want.  You  can't  tell  to  what  lengths  these 
people  here  will  go  when  their  private  interests  are 
attacked,  and  that  is  what  Andy  T.  Symes  represents 
to  them." 

"You  are  not  very  complimentarv,"  he  laughed 
"You  don't  think  highly  of  my  ability,  I'm  afraid. 
W  hat  you  tell  me  is  not  news.  Self-interest  is  the 
controlling  factor  in  the  alTairs  of  human  life  I've 
learned  this  largely  by  having  my  cuticle  removed  in 
many  quarters  of  the  globe.  The  methods  here  are 
rather  raw  and  shameless,  also  more  novel  and  pict- 
iiresciue.  We  accomplish  the  same  result  with  more 
finesse  in  the  East." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  your  ability,  but  of  your 
safety,"  she  said  (piiekly.     "I  know  this  world  out 

here  as  you  know  yours,  and " 

"Remember  this,  Essie  Tisdale,"  he  interrupted, 
and  unexpectedly  he  leaned  and  laid  his  gloved  hand 
upon  her  fingers  as  they  rested  on  the  saddle  horn, 
whatever  I  may  do.  I  do  of  my  own  volition,  freely 
gladly— yes,  eagerly." 

He  spoke  more  lightly  as  he  withdrew  his  hand 
and  continued — 

T  JJ^""  situation  appeals  to  my  sporting  blood  which 

1  Delieve  has  been  s/rpa*]v  „r,^o^^„*^j  :„  n< !.___,  ,. 

10 


146 


THE  LADY  DOC 


He  lau<rhp(]  as  he  remembered  Dubois's  complaints. 
"Whatever  I  may  chose  to  do  in  the  future,  please 
consider  that  I  rej^ard  it  solely  in  the  light  of  recrea- 
tion. It's  one's  enemies  that  give  a  zest  to  life,  you 
know,  and  if  I  ehoose  to  mutch  my  wits  against  the 
wits  of  Andy  P.  Symes — my  wits  and  resources — 
don't  grudge  me  the  pleasure,  for  it  is  in  much  the 
same  spirit  in  which  I  might  play  the  races  or  work 
out  a  game  of  chess." 

"But,"  she  shook  her  head  dubiously,  "with  less 
chance  of  success." 


XIV 

TiiK   Ivriiit's  OK  Tin:  I'kofkssion'' 

Andy  P.  .Svmes  sat  ia  his  comrortable  porch  chair 
ill  the  cool  of  the  evening,  at  peaee  with  all  the  world. 
His  frame  of  mind  w;is  enviable;  indcied,  tliat  person 
would  be  hard  to  please  who  could  look  down  the 
vista  of  pleasant  probabilities  which  stretched  before 
his  mental  vision  and  not  I'eel  tolerably  serene. 

His  enterprise  had  been  singularly  free  from  the 
obstacles,  delays,  and  annoyances  which  so  often 
attend  the  jjfettinj?  under  way  of  u  new  undertaking 
Mudj;e,  the  Chicago  promoter,  had  been  particularly 
successful  in  disposing  of  the  (.'ompany's  bonds,  at 
least  a  sunicient  number  to  keep  the  work  going  and 
meet  the  local  obligations.  Save  in  a  few  instances, 
the  contractors  had  made  money  on  their  contracts 
and  were  eager  for  more.  The  commissary  was  a 
source  of  revenue  and  there  were  certain  commi.ssions 
and  rebates  in  the  purchase  of  equipment  which  he 
did  not  mention  but  which  added  materially  to  his 
income.  His  salary,  thus  far,  had  been  ample  and 
sure.  Symes  told  himself,  and  sometimes  others,  that 
he  lu,  1  nothing  in  life  to  trouble  him,  that  he  was,  in 
fact,  that  rare  anomaly — a  perl  ctly  happy  man. 

7'his  evening  in  the  agreeable  picture  which  he 
could  see  quite  plainly  by  merely  closing  his  eyes, 
there  was  an  imposing  residence  that  bore  the  same 
relation  to  Crowheart  \vhich  the  manor  house  does  to 
the  retainers  upon  a  great  English  estate.  He  could 
see  a  touring  car  which  sent  the  coyotes  loping  to  their 
dens  and   made  the  natives  gape:  not  so  close,  but 

147 


IkS 


THH  LADV  DOC" 


e<|U.'illy  (listiru't.  a  fricrnlly  luincj  was  pointinp:  the  way 
to  political  liDHors  wliosc  only  limit  was  lus  own  do- 
fsircs.  And  Au^nista — his  smile  of  fornplacciicy  did  not 
fade — she  was  ('(inal  to  .my  errier{,'fn(y  now,  he  be- 
lieved. She  had  not  oidy  chan-.'ed  amazin^'iy  hut  she 
was  still  ehan-ring  and  Symes  wati'ln-d  the  various 
statues  of  her  d(*v^lo[)ment  with  (piict  interest  ami 
approval.  It  is  true  he  missed  her  form.r  demon- 
strativeness  and  open  admiration  of  himself,  hut  he 
eonsidered  her  self-repivssion  a  mark  of  advancement, 
an  evidence  of  tlie  repose  of  manner  which  slie  was 
cultiva'inir.  There  were  timers,  lie  thou^dit,  when  slie 
carried  it  a  hit  too  far,  w'u-n  she  seemed  inditfereiit, 
unresponsive  to  his  moods,  hut  at  sudi  moments  he 
wouiii  assure  iiimself  that  uot  for  the  world  would  he 
Lave  had  her  ;us  she  was  in  the  heginninjj. 

She  wa.s  happy,  too;  Ik-  eouUl  liear  her  occasional 
laupliter  and  the  murnuir  of  her  voice  as  she  swung 
in  the  hammock  at  the  corner  of  the  house  with 
Dr.  Ilarpe.  On  his  riurlit,  he  licard  the  unceasing 
click  of  (irandmother  Kunkel's  needles  as  they  flew 
in  and  out  upon  the  top  row  of  the  woollen  stocking 
that  ';-  never  done.  It  wa.s  a  j'U^asing  (h)mestic 
scene  and  lie  opened  ]iis  eyes  lazily  to  enjoy  it.  They 
souu'lit  the  hammock  and  their  listlessness  was  gradu- 
ally replaced  by  an  intentness  of  gaze  which  became 
a  stare. 

"C.randmother,"  he  said  after  a  time,  and  he 
noticed  that  her  mouth  was  a  tight  pucker  of  dis- 
plea.sure,  though  she  seemed  to  have  eyes  only  for 
her  work.  "You  remember  our  conversation  some  time 
ago— have  yon  changed  your  opinion  in  regard  to  the 
person  we  discussed?" 

Ill  tiie  luuk  she  fia.sheti  at  him  he  read  not  only  the 


'•  ETHICS  OF  THE  PROFESSION  "     149 

answer  to  his  (jufstion  hut  something:  of  the  fiorce 
emotion  which  was  liuiliiij,'  vent  in  her  living  needles. 

"I  haven't!"  she  snapped. 

"You  truly  believe  that  h^r  inthionce  over  Augusta 
is  not  good?" 

She  leaned  toward  him  in  (piiet  inU'nsity — 

"Hflii've  it?  I  kaoiv  it!  I've  Ix'en  prayin'  that 
you  mi;,'ht  see  it  yourself  before  it  is  ti'o  late." 

"Too  late?     What  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  what!  say."  Her  oh  chin  trembled.  "Be- 
fore Augusta  has  lost  every  spark  of  atYection  for  you 
and  me — before  I  am  .sent  away." 

He  looked  at  her  ineredulously. 

"You  don't  mean  that?" 

She  nodded. 

"I've  l)een  warned  alnndy.  I'm  in  Dr.  Ilarpe's 
way;  she  knows  what  I  think  of  her  and  she'd  rather 
have  some  stranger  here." 

"You  anuize  me.  Does  she  dominate  Augusta  to 
such  an  extent  as  that!" 

His  mind  ran  back  over  the  cven'js  of  the  past  few 
weeks  and  he  could  see  that  those  occasions  from 
which  Dr.  Ilarpe  had  been  excluded  had  seemed  flat, 
stale,  footless  to  Augusta.  She  had  been  absent- 
minded,  preoccupied,  even  openly  bored.  He  recalled 
the  fact  now  that  it  was  only  at  this  woman's  coming 
that  animation  had  returned  and  that  she  had  hung 
absorbed,  fascinated  upon  her  words.  She  became  alive 
in  her  presence  as  though  she  drew  her  verj'  vitality 
from  this  stronger-willed  woman. 

"I've  noticed  a  change — but  I  thought  it  was 
nerves — the  altitude,  perhaps — ard  I've  intendea  tak- 
ing her  with  me  on  my  next  trip  East." 

"Sue  wouldn't  go.  ' 


4 


150 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"I  can'i  believe  that."' 

"Ask  her,"  was  the  grim  reply. 

"She  obeyed  me  in  that  other  matter,"  Symes 
argued. 

"Beeause  she  was  aUow(d  to  do  so." 

'■I'm  going  to  stop  this  intimacy;  I'm  tired  of  her 
intcrferenee — tired  of  seeing  her  around — ti''ed  of 
boarding  her,  as  a  matter  of  faet,  and  1  will  end  it.'' 
lie  spoke  in  intense  exasperation. 

"Look  out,  Andy  P.,  you'll  make  a  mistake  if  you 
trj'  in  that  way.  You  might  have  done  it  in  the 
beginnin'  or  when  I  tirst  warned  you;  but  Augusta's 
]ik(  putty  in  her  hands  no  .v.  IShe  don't  seem  to  have 
any  will  of  her  own  or  gratitrde — or  atfection.  I'm 
tellin'  yuu  straight.  Andy  P." 

Symes  eonsidcretl. 

"There  is  a  way,  if  I  could  bring  myself  to  do  it." 

"What's  that?" 

"^lake  Augusta  .iealous.  Touch  her  pride,  wound 
her  vanity  by  making  love  to  Dr.  Ilarpe.  No."  he 
put  the  thought  from  him  vehemently,  "I'm  not  that 
kind  of  a  hypocrite.  Rut  she  can't  be  invulnerable — 
tell  me  her  weakness  s.  You  women  know  each 
other." 

The  old  woman  assented  vigorously — 

"I  know  her  you  kin  be  sure.  For  one  thing 
she's  a  coward.  She's  brave  only  when  she  thinks 
she's  safe.  She's  afraid  of  people — of  what  they'll 
say  of  her,  and  she's  crazy  for  money." 

They  were  getting  up,  the  two  in  the  hammock,  and 
as  Dr.  Ilarpe  sauntered  to  the  porch,  Andy  P.  Symes 
looked  at  her  in  a  sudden  and  violent  dislike  which 
he  took  no  pains  to  co-^eal.  Her  hands  were  shoved 
deep  in  her  jacket  pocKcts  as  she  swaggered  toward 


"  ETHICS  OF  THE  PROFESSION  »     161 

him,  straight  strands  of  hair  hung  in  dishevelment 
about  her  colorless,  immobile  face,  while  her  muddy 
hazel  eyes  became  alternately  shifting  or  bold  as  she 
noted  the  intentness  of  his  gaze.  No  detail  of  her 
slovenly  appearance,  her  strange  personality,  escaped 
hira. 

"I'll  be  goin',  Ous;  good-night,"  Dr.  ITarpe  said 
shortly.  She  felt  both  uneasy  and  irritated  by  the 
expression  on  his  face. 

Symes  watched  her  swaggering  down  the  sidewalk 
to  the  gate,  and  when  it  had  slammed  behind  her, 
he  said,   sharply — 

"I'll  be  greatly  obliged  to  you,  Augusta,  if  you 
will  ask  Dr.  Harpe  not  to  abbreviate  your  name.  It's 
vulgar  and  I  det       it." 

Mrs.  Symes  turned  and  regarded  him  coolly  for 
a  moment  before  answering. 

"I  do  not  in  the  least  mind  what  Dr.  Harpe  calla 
me. 

"That  is  obvious'' — his  voice  was  harsh — "but  I 
do — most  emphaticallj'. " 

Her  eyes  flashed  defiance. 

"Then  tell  her  j'ourself,  for  I  have  no  notion  of 
doing  so,"  and  she  stalked  inside  the  house. 

The  incident  of  the  evening  brought  to  a  head 
certain  plans  which  long  had  been  lormulating  in 
Dr.  Ilarpe's  mind;  and  the  result  was  a  note  which 
made  his  lip  cur  as  he  read  and  re-read  it  the  next 
morning  with  v.    lous  shadings  of  angry  scorn. 


My  dear  Mr.  Symes  : 

Kindly  call  at  your  earliest  convenience,  and  oblige, 
Faithfully  yours, 

Emma  Hakie 


152 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Symcs  had  spent  a  sleepless  night  and  his  mood 
was  savag:e.  Another  defiant  interview  before  leav- 
ing the  house  had  not  improved  it  and  now  this 
communication  from  Dr.  Ilarpe  came  as  a  climax. 

lie  swung  in  his  office  chair. 

**  *]\Iy  earliest  convenience!'  If  that  isn't  like  her 
confounded  impudence — her  colossal  nerve !  When 
she's  stalking  past  here  ever\-  fifteen  minutes  all  day 
long.  'My  earliest  convenience!'  By  gad!" — he 
struck  the  desk  in  sudden  determination — '"I'm  just 
in  the  mood  to  humor  her.  Things  have  come  to  a 
pretty  pass  when  Andy  P.  Symes  can't  say  who  and 
who  not  shall  be  admitted  to  his  home.  If  she  wants 
to  know  what's  the  matter  with  me,  I'll  tell  her!" 

lie  closed  his  desk  with  a  slam  and  slung  his 
broad-brimmed  hat  upon  his  head.  Dr.  Ilarpe,  glanc- 
ing through  her  window,  read  purpose  in  his  stride 
as  he  came  down  the  street.  Her  green  eyes  took  on 
the  gleam  of  battle  and  to  doubly  fortify  he/  If  she 
wrenched  open  her  desk  drawer  and  filled  a  whiskey 
glass  to  the  brim.  When  she  had  drained  it  without 
removing  it  from  her  lips  she  drew  her  shirtwaist 
sleeve  across  her  mouth  to  dry  it,  in  a  fashion  pecu- 
liarlv  her  own.  Then  she  tilted  her  desk  chair  at  a 
comfortable  angle  and  her  crossed  legs  displayed  a 
stocking  wrinkled  in  its  usual  mosquetaire  effect.  She 
was  without  her  jacket  but  wore  a  man's  starched 
pique  waistcoat  over  her  white  shirtwaist,  and  from 
one  pocket  there  dangled  a  man's  watch-fob  of  braided 
leather.  She  threw  an  arm  over  the  chair-back  and 
toyed  with  a  pencil  on  her  desk,  waiting  in  this 
studied  pose  of  nonchalance  the  arrival  of  S\Tnes. 

The  occa-sion  when  he  had  last  climbed  the  stairs  of 
the  Terriberr}'  House  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  Dr. 


«  ETHICS  OF  THE  PROFESSION  "     153 


Harp  was  unpleasantly  vivid  and  the  secret  they  had 
in  common  nettled  him  for  the  first  time.  But  secret 
or  no  secret  he  was  in  no  humor  to  temporize  or  con- 
ciliate and  there  were  only  harsh  thoughts  of  the 
woman  in  his  mind. 

"IIow  are  you,  ^Ir.  Symos?"  She  greeted  him 
carelessly  as  hj  opened  the  door,  without  altering  her 
position. 

"Good  morning."'  he  responded  curtly.  There 
was  no  trace  of  his  usual  urbanity  and  he  chewed 
nervously  upon  the  end  of  an  unlighted  cigai. 

"Sit  down."  She  waved  him  casually  to  a  chair, 
and  there  was  that  in  her  impudent  assurance  which 
made  him  shut  his  teeth  hard  upon  the  mutilated  cigar. 
"Thanks,"  he  said  stiftly,  and  did  as  she  bid  him. 
"Light  up,"  she  urged,  and  fumbled  in  a  pocket 
of  her  waistcoat  for  a  match  which  she  handed  him. 
' '  Guess  I  '11  smoke  myself.  It  helps  me  talk,  and  that 's 
what  we're  here  for." 

He  had  not  known  that  she  smoked,  and  as  he 
watched  her  roll  a  cigarette  with  the  skill  of  much 
practice  the  action  filled  him  with  fresh  repugnance. 
Through  rings  of  smoke  he  regarded  her  with  c(  ]dly 
quizzical  eyes  while  he  waited  for  her  to  open  the 
conversation. 

"I've  got  a  proposition  to  put  up  to  you,"  she 
began,  "a  scheme  that  I  had  in  the  back  of  my  head 
ever  since  you  started  ia  to  'make  the  desert  bloom 
like  the  rose.'  " 

Her  covert  sneer  did  not  escape  him,  but  he  made 
no  sign. 

She  went  on — 

"It's  an  easy  graft;  it's  done  everywhere,  and  I 
know  it'll  work  here  like  a  breeze." 


154 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Graft  was  a  raw  word  and  Symes's  face  hardened 
slightly,  but  he  waited  to  hear  her  out. 

"You're  putting  a  big  force  of  men  on  the  ditch, 
I  understand.    How  many?" 

"About  five  hundred." 

"Give  me  a  medical  contract." 

So  that  was  it  ?  His  eyes  lit  up  with  understand- 
ing. She  wanted  to  make  money— through  him  ?  Iler 
tone  and  attitude  was  not  exactly  that  of  a  person 
asking  a  favor.  A  faint  smile  of  derision  curved  hia 
lips.  She  saw  it  and  added— 
"I'll  give  you  a  rake-oif." 

He  resented  both  the  words  and  her  tone,  but  she 
only  laughed  at  the  frown  which  appeared  for  a 
moment. 

"You're  'out  for  the  stuff,'  aren't  you?"  she  de- 
manded.   "Well,  so  am  I." 

He  re-arded  her  silently.  Had  she  alwavs  been  so 
coarse  of  speed,,  he  wondere.J,  or  for  some  reason 
he  could  not  divine  was  she  merely  throwi.ig  off  re- 
straint? Brushing  the  ashes  from  his  cig'ar  with 
de'iberation,  he  inquired  nim-eomniittally 

"Just  what  is  your  scheme?" 

"It's  simple  enough,  and  customary.  Take  a 
dollar  a  month  out  of  your  employees'  wages  for 
med'V-al  services  and  TU  jnok  after  them  and  put  up 
some  kind  of  a  jini'-row  hospital  in  ease  thev  get  too 
bad  to  lie  in  the  bunk-house  on  the  works.  I  car  run 
in  some  kind  of  a  ch^'ap  ^vonian  to  eook  and  look  af»er 
them  and  you  bet  the  grub  won't  founder  'em  Whv 
there's  nothin'  to  it,  Mr.  Symes~I  can  run  the  joint' 
gi.e  you  two  bits  out  of  every  dollar,  and  still  make 
money. 

Symes  scarcely  heard  what  she  said  for  looking 


ETHICS  OF  THE  PROFESSION  "     155 


at  her  face.  It  seemed  transformed  by  cupidity,  a 
kind  of  mean  pcnuriousness  which  he  had  observed 
in  the  faces  of  persons  of  small  interests,  but  never 
to  such  a  degree.  "She's  money  mad,"  Grandmother 
Kunkel  had  said;  the  old  woman  was  right. 

He  was  not  squeamish,  Andy  P.  Syme.j,  and  it  was 
true  that  he  was  "out  for  the  stuff,"  but  the  woman's 
bald  statement  shocked  him.  Upon  a  few  occasions 
Symes  had  been  surprised  to  find  that  he  had  stand- 
ards of  conduct,  unsuspected  ideals,  and  somehow,  her 
attitude  ;  iward  her  profession  outraged  his  sense  of 
decency.  If  a  minister  of  the  gospel  had  hung  over 
his  Bible  and  shouted  from  the  puipit  "I'm  out  for 
the  stuff!"  the  effect  upon  Symes  would  have  been 
much  the  sann". 

Until  sh(^  thrust  her  sordid  views  upon  him  he 
had  not  realized  that  he  entertained  for  the  medical 
profession  any  deeper  respect  than  for  any  other 
class  of  persons  engaged  in  earning  a  livelihood,  but 
now  he  remembered  that  the  best  physicians  he  had 
known  had  seemed  to  look  upon  their  life-work  as  a 
consecration  of  themselves  to  humanity  and  the  most 
flippant  among  them,  jls  men,  had  always  a  dignity 
apart  from  themselves  when  they  became  the  phy- 
sician, and  he  knew,  too,  that  as  a  class  they  were  jeal- 
ous i.i'  the  good  nam"  of  their  profession  and  sensitive 
to  a  degree  where  anything  affected  its  honor.  The 
viewpoint  no'v  presented  was  new  to  him  and  suffi- 
ciently interesting  to  investigate  further;  besides  it 
thed  a  new  light  npon  the  woman's  character. 

"But  supposing  the  men  object  to  such  a  u 'duc- 
ti(m."  he  said  tentatively.  "There's  little  sickness  in 
this  (  !imate  and  the  camps  are  sanitary." 

"Object?      What    of    it!"    she    argued    eagerly. 


156 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"They'll  have  to  submit  if  you  say  so;  certainly 
they're  not  goin'  to  throw  up  their  jobs  for  a  dollar. 
Work 's  too  scarce  for  that.  They  can 't  kick  and  they 
won't  kick  if  you  give  'cm  to  understand  that  they've 
got  to  dig  up  this  dollar  or  ([uit." 

"Jiut,"  Symes  evaded,  "the  most  of  this  work  is 
let  to  contractors  and  it's  for  them  to  determine;  I 
don't  feel  like  dictating  to  them." 

"Why  not?"  Her  voice  quavered  with  impa- 
tience. "Th.y  want  new  contracts.  They'd  make  the 
arrangement  if  they  thought  it  would  please  you?" 

"But,"  Symes  answered  coolly,  "I  don't  know 
that  it  would  please  me." 

lie  saw  the  quick,  antagonistic  glitter  which  leaped 
into  her  eyes,  but  he  went  on  calmly — 

"Where  the  work  is  dangerous  and  the  force  is 
large  your  scheme  is  customary  and  practicable,  I 
know,  but  npon  a  project  of  this  size  where  the 
conditions  are  healthy,  there  is  nothing  to  justify 
me  in  demanding  a  compulsorj'  contribution  of  $500 
a  month  for  your  benefit," 

She  controlled  her  temper  with  visible  effort. 

"But  there  will  be  dmgerous  work,"  she  urged. 
"I've  been  over  the  ground  and  I  know.  There'll 
be  a  tunnel,  lots  of  rock-work,  blasting,  and,  in  conse- 
quence, accidents." 

"That  would  bt-  my  chief  objection  to  giving  you 
the  contract." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

His  smile  was  ironical  as  he  answered 

"You  are  not  a  surgeon." 

"Hell!    I  can  plaster  'em  up  .somehow." 

Symes  stared.  His  expression  quickly  brought  her 
to  a  realization  u.  the  mistake  into  which  her  angry 


•'  ETHICS  OF  THE  PROFESSION  "     157 


vehomonoe  had  led  her  and  she  colored  to  the  roots 
of  her  hair. 

"Your  confidence  is  reassuring,"  he  said  dryly 
at  the  end  of  an  uncomfortable  pause.  "But  tell  m.,'," 
■ — her  callousness  aroused  his  curio'-ity — "would  yon. 
admittedly  without  experience  or  practical  surirical 
knowledfje,  be  willing  to  .siiouldcr  the  responsibilities 
which  would  come  to  you  in  such  a  position?" 

"I  told  you,"  she  answered  obstinately,  "I  can  fix 
'em  up  somi'h<nv ;  I  can  do  the  trick  and  get  away 
■with  it.    You  needn't  be  afraid  of  mc." 

"What  I'm  afraid  of  isn't  the  question;  but 
haven't  you  any  feeling  of  moral  responsibility  when 
it  comes  to  tinkering  and  experimenting  with  the  lives 
and  limbs  of  workiiiomen  who  have  families  depen- 
dent upon  them?" 

"What's  the  use  of  worry  in'  over  what  hasn't  hap- 
pened?" she  asked  evasively.  "I'll  do  the  best  I 
can." 

"But  supposing  'the  best  you  can'  isn't  en  igh? 
Supposing  through  inexperience  or  ignorance  you 
blunder,  unmistakably,  palpably  blunder,  what  then?" 

"Well,"  she  shrugged  her  shoulder,  "I  wouldn't 
be  the  first." 

"But,"  he  suggested  ironically,  "a  victim  has 
redress. ' ' 

She  snorted. 

"Not  a  doctor's  victim.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  ,i 
patient  winnin'  a  case  against  a  doctor?  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  a  successful  malpractice  suit?" 

He  considered. 

"I  can't  say  that  I'v^  known  the  sort  of  doctors 
yfho  figure  in  malpractice  suits,  but  since  I  think  of 


1.58 


THE  LADY  DOC 


it  I  don't  btliovu  I  ever  read  or  heard  of  one  who 
ever  did." 

"Anci  you  won't,"  she  said  tersely. 
"Why  not?    The  r.-st  of  the  world  must  pay  for 
the  mistakes  of  incompetency." 

"  'The  ethics  of  the  profession,'  "  she  quoted 
mockiDf^^y.  ' '  We  protect  each  other.  The  last  thin-  a 
doctor  wants  to  do,  or  will  do.  is  to  testify  against 
a  fellow  practitioner,  lie  may  d-spise  him  in  his 
heart  but  he'll  protect  him  on  the  witness  stand 
Besides,  we're  allowed  a  certain  percentage  of  mia- 
takes;  the  best  are  not  infallible.  " 

"That's  true;  but  supposin- "  he  persisted,  "that 
the  mistake  to  a  competent  sur-eon  was  so  obviously 
the  result  of  i-norance  that  it  could  not  be  gotten 
around,  would  he  still  protect  you?" 

"Nine  times  in  ten  he  would,"  she  replied;  "at 
least  he'd  be  silent." 

"And  allow  you  to  go  on  experimentin"-?" 
He  saw  that  she  hesitated.    8he  was  thinking  that 
she^need  not  tell  him  she  had  known  such  an  one 

Of  course  there  are  high-brows  who  set  the  stand- 
ards for  themsdves  and  others  pretty  high,  and  if 
I  acted,  or  failed  to  act,  in  violation  of  all  recognized 
tnethods  of  procedure,  and  with  fatal  results,  they 
m^ht  make  me  trouble.  But  you  can  bet,"  she 
fiiiished  with  a  grin,  "the  ethics  of  the  profession 
nave  saved  many  a  poor  quack's  hide  " 
"Quack?" 

"Oh,  they  may  have  diplomas.  A  diploma  doesn't 
mean  so  much  in  these  days  of  cheap  m  dical  colleges 
where  they  grind  'em  out  by  the  hundreds;  you  need 
only  know  where  to  go  and  have  the  price  "  " 

"This  is-illuminating."    Symes  wondered  «t  h-- 


"  ETHICS  OF  THE  PROFESSION  "     159 


f 


candor.     She  seemed  very  sure  of  her  position  with 
him,  he  thought. 

"What  difference  does  it  make  where  your 
diploma's  from  to  jays  like  these?"  She  waved  her 
arm  at  Crowheart.  "A  little  horse  sense,  a  bold  front, 
a  hypodermic  needle,  and  a  few  pills  will  put  you 
a  long  way  on  your  road  among  this  class  of  people. 
I'm  talkin'  pretty  free  to  an  outsider,  but,"  she 
looked  at  him  significantly,  "I  know  we  can  trust 
each  other." 

The  implication  irritated  him,  but  he  ignored  it 
for  the  present. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  demanded,  "that 
there  are  medical  schools  where  you  can  buy  a 
diploma?    Where  anybody  can  get  through?" 

She  laughed  at  his  amazement. 

"A  quiz-compend  and  a  good  memory  will  put 
a  farm-hand  or  a  sheep-herder  through  if  he  can 
read  and  write ;  he  doesn  't  have  to  have  a  High  School 
education."  She  inquired  jocularly,  appearing  to 
find  enjoyment  in  shocking  him:  "You've  seen  me 
hated  rival,  haven't  you — Lamb,  the  new  M.D.  that 
pulled  in  here  the  other  day?  His  wife  looks  like  a 
horse  with  a  straw  bonnet  on  and  he  ought  to  be 
jailed  on  sight  if  there's  anything  in  Lombroso" 
theories.    Have  you  noticed  him  ? ' ' 

Symes  nodded. 

"He  laid  brick  until  he  was  thirty-five,"  she 
added  nonchalantly.  "I've  thought  some  of  taking 
him  in  with  me  on  this  contract,  for  some  men, 
working  men  especially,  are  devilish  prejudiced 
against  women  doctors." 

Symes 's  eyes  narrowed. 

"Whv  share  the — snoilsT" 


160 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"It's  a  pood  thing  to  have  somebody  like  him  to 
slough  the  blamo  on  in  case  of  trouble." 

"By  pad!" — the  exclamation  burst  from  him  in- 
voluntarily— "but  you're  a  cold-blooded  proposition." 

She  construed  this  as  a  compliment. 

"Merely  business  foresight,  my  dear  ]\Ir.  Sj-mcs," 
she  smirked  complacently.  "Some  fool,  you  know, 
mi^'ht  think  he  could  get  a  judgment  if  he  didn't 
like  the  way  we  handled  him." 

"And  you're  sure  he  couldn't?" 

"Lord! — no.  Not  out  here."  Her  leg  slipped 
over  her  knee  and  her  foot  slumped  to  the  floor.  She 
slid  lower  in  the  chair,  until  her  head  rested  on  the 
back,  her  sprawling  legs  outstretched,  her  fingers 
clasped  across  her  starched  \vai.stcoat,  upon  her  face 
an  expression  of  humorous  disdain.  "Lt't  nu;  tell  yo\i 
a  story  to  illustrate  what  you  can  do  and  get  away 
with  it— to  ease  your  mind  if  you're  afraid  of  gettin' 
into  trouble  on  my  account.  A  friend  of  mine  who 
had  a  dipl(»ma  from  my  school  came  out  "West  to 
practise  and  she  had  a  case  of  a  fellow  with  a  .slashed 
wrist — the  tendons  were  plumb  severed.  She  didn't 
know  how  to  draw  'em  together,  so  she  just  sewed  up 
the  outside  skin.  They  shrunk,  and  he  lo.st  the  use  of 
his  hand.  Then  he  goes  back  Ea.st  for  treatment  and 
comes  home  full  of  talk  about  damage  suits  and  that 
sort  of  thing.  Weil,  sir,  she  just  bluffed  him  down. 
Told  him  she  had  fixed  'em  all  right,  but  when  he 
was  drunk  he  had  torn  the  tendons  loose  and  was 
trj'in'  to  lay  the  blame  on  her.  She  made  her  bluff 
stick,  too.    Funny,  wasn't  it?" 

"Excruciating,"  said  Sjones. 

She  seemed  strangely  indifferent  to  his  sarcasm — • 

tn  bi<!  nnlninn 


"ETHICS  OF  THE  PROFESSION"     161 


slift  urged,  "that  I'll  be 


*'I  can   promise  you,' 
equal  to  any  mnergency." 

"I've  n    doubt  of  it,"  he  returned. 

Symes  smoked  hard;  he  was  thini:ing,  not  of  the 
contract  whieh  he  intended  to  peremptorily  refus(% 
bu.  hou  best,  in  ^vhat  wortls  to  fell  this  woman  that 
now  more  than  ever  he  wished  the  intimacy  between 
her  and  his  wife  to  end. 

At  the  close  of  an  impatient  silence  she  demanded 
bluntly — 

"Do  I  get  the  contract?" 

With  equ.il  bluiitness  he  responded — 

"You  do  n(.f." 

She  straightened  herscif  instantly  in  the  chair  and 
he  K-new  from  the  luok  in  her  eyes  that  the  clash 
had  come. 

"Do  you  want  a  big'rer  r  iki-oft"?"  she  sneered 
offensively. 

"Do  you  th.iik 

She     shrugged 
answered — 

"It's  legitimate." 

"Perhaps;  but  I  don't  choose  t.  do  it.  I  refuse 
to  iorce  your  confessedly  inexperienced  and  incora- 
pef-  !it  services  upon  my  men.  ^^^lat  you  ask  is 
impossible. ' ' 

He  expected  an  outburst  but  none  came;  instead, 
she  sat  lookini'  at  hiiu  with  a  twisted  smile. 

"You'd  belter  reconsider,"  she  said  at  last,  and 
there  was  in  her  ^  oiee  and  manner  the  taunting  confi- 
dence of  a  "gun-man"  who  has  his  hand  at  his  hip. 

Symes  spat  out  a  particle  of  tobacco  with  angry 
vehemence  and  his  ruddy  face  turned  redder. 

"Mv  answer  is  {\^.r.\  " 
11 


"m  a  petty  thief?" 
h   •     shoulder     cynically, 


but 


162 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Iler  composure  grew  with  his  loss  of  it. 

"I  hoped  it  wouldn't  be  necessary  to  remind  you 
of  your  first  visit  here,  but  it  seems  it  is." 

That  was  it  then — the  source  of  her  assurance — 
she  meant  to  trade  upon,  to  make  capital  of  a  pnifes- 
sional  secret.  It  was  like  \wr  to  remind  him  of  an 
obli^'ation,  to  attain  her  ends. 

"I've  not  forgotten,"  he  answered  with  an  effort, 
"but  the  favor  you  ask  is  one  I  cannot  conscien- 
tiously grant." 

She  laughed  disagreeably. 

"Since  when  has  your  conscience  become  a  factor 
in  your  affairs?" 

He  could  have  throttled  her  for  her  insolence,  but 
she  gave  him  no  chance  to  reply. 

"Supposing  I  insist?" 

'  *  Insist  ? ' '    Was  she  threatening  him  ? 

She  answered  coldly — 

"That's  what  I  said." 

"Do  you  mean" — his  voice  dropped  to  an  in- 
credulous whisper — "that  you  are  threatening  to  be- 
tray Augusta  to  attain  your  end?" 

"I  don't  like  to  be  thwarted  for  a  whim — a  sense- 
less piece  of  sentiment.  This  contract  means  too 
much  to  me." 

"But  do  I  understand  aright?"  She  gloated  as 
she  saw  his  fading  color.  "Do  you  intend  to  say 
that  the  price  of  your  silence  is  this  contract?" 

"Something  of  the  sort,"  she  replied  in  cold 
stubbornness. 

The  full  knowledge  of  her  power  swept  over  him ; 
the  helplessness  of  his  position  filled  him  with  sudden 
fury.     He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  hurled  his  oiear 


KTHKS  OF  THK  rilOFESSION  "     163 


Ihrontrh  tho  open  window.  His  thick  fiugers  twitched 
to  choke  the  insolent  stnih'  from  her  lace. 

"You  traitor!    You  blackmailer!" 

She  arose  leisurely. 

"rnpleasant  words— but  there  arc  others  as 
urii)lt^iisant." 

With  his  hands  thnist  deep  in  his  trousers  pockets 
Synies  faced  her,  eyeing  her  with  an  expression  which 
would  havff  made  most  women  wince  but  which  she 
retuni(>d  with  absolute  composure.  She  was  in  con- 
trol of  the  situation  and  realized  it  to  the  full.  Symes 
was  speechless  nearly  in  the  face  of  such  cllroutery, 
such  disloyalty,  such  ingratitude. 

"You  would  sacrifice  your  best  friend  for 
money !" 

"Business  is  business,  and  I'm  out  for  the  stuff,  as 
I  told  you,  but  there's  no  sense  in  letting  it  come  to 
that.     I  don't  want  to  do  it,  so  don't  be  a  fool!" 

8ymes  groaned;  she  had  attacked  him  in  his  most 
vulnerable  spot,  namely,  his  horror  of  scandal,  of 
anything  which  would  besmirch  the  name  of  which 
he  was  so  inordinately  proud.  This  pride  was  at 
once  his  strength  and  his  weakness. 

"And  if  I  permit  myself  to  be  blackmailed— there 
is  no  use  in  mincing  words— if  I  give  you  this  con- 
tract in  exchange  for  my  wife's  good  name  are  you 
willing  to  consider  event-  obligation  wiped  out." 

Ilcr  eyes  Hashed  their  triumph  at  this  quick 
collapse  of  his  stand. 

"I  am." 

"And,  furthermore,  will  you  agree  to  discontinue 
your  visits  to  my  house?" 

''Why?"    There  was  hard  bravado  in  the  question. 
x-  lo  not  gooa,  Dr.  Harpe. " 


"Vn.i,.  ;««. 


164 


THE  LADY  DOC 


'What  does  Augusta  say 


'I've  not 
'And  the 


Ited 


consu 
contract 


xcr. 


is  mine?— that  is  settled?' 


"So  Ion?  as  y(ni  keep  your  word." 

She  smiled  enigmatically. 

"I'll  keep  my  word." 

A  fumbling  at  the  door  ended  the  inteiview,  for  it 
openi'd  to  i.dmit  a  white-faced  woman  with  a  child 
moaning  in  her  arms. 

"Oh,  Doftor,  I'm  so  glad  you're  hero!"  she  cried 
in  relief.  ''He's  been  like  this  since  early  this  morn- 
ing and  I  brought  him  in  town  as  quick  as  I  could. 
Is  it  anything  serious?" 

"Come  here,  my  little  man." 

Symes  saw  the  reddening  of  the  ranchwoman's 
eyelids  at  the  sympathy  in  the  Doctor's  voice,  at  the 
gentleness  with  which  she  took  the  child  from  her 
arms.  Symes  paused  in  the  doonvay  to  look  longer 
at  the  swift  transition  which  made  her  the  woman  that 
her  patients  knew.  There  was  a  softly  maternal  look 
in  her  face  as  she  hung  brooding  over  the  child,  a  look 
so  genuine  that  it  bewi'dered  him  in  the  light  of  what 
had  just  transpired,  Was  this  another  phase  of  the 
woman's  character  or  was  it  assumed  for  his  benefit? 

The  child's  shawl  .slipped  to  the  floor  and,  as  the 
mother  stooped  for  it,  Dr.  Ilarpe  flashed  him  a  mock- 
ing glance  which  left  him  in  no  doubt. 


XV 

Symes's  Authority 

Symes  descended  the  st'^irs  of  the  Terriberry 
House  in  a  frame  of  mind  that  was  ver>'  different 
from  the  determined  arrogance  with  which  he  had 
ascended  them  less  than  an  hour  before.  He  was 
filled  with  a  humiliatinj^  sense  of  defeat,  and  of 
having  acted  weakly.  He  returned  mechanically  the 
salutations  of  those  he  \  issed  upon  the  street  and 
sunk  into  his  office  chair  with  his  hat  upon  his  head, 
a  dazed  scn.se  of  shock  and  humiliation  still  upon  him. 

He  had  been  blind  as  a  bat,  he  told  himself,  blinder 
even,  for  a  bat  has  an  instinct  which  warns  it  of 
danger.  The  irtcview  which  had  revealed  the  woman's 
character  came  in  the  nature  of  a  revelation  in  spite 
of  that  he  already  knew.  The  part  he  had  been 
forced  lo  play  did  not  become  more  heroic  by  contem- 
plation, and  the  only  satisfaction  he  could  wring 
from  it  was  that  he  was  rid  of  her — that  she  would 
never  pollute  his  home  again.  Tt  had  cost  him  his 
pride  and  the  sacrifice  of  his  conscience,  but  he  tried  to 
make  himself  believe  that  it  was  worth  the  purcha.se 
price;  yet  the  thought  always  came  back  that  he,  Andy 
P.  Symes.  had  allowed  himself  to  be  blackmailed. 

The  knowledge  of  Dr.  Ilarpe's  vmbelievable  per- 
fidy would  be  a  shock  to  Augusta,  but  it  would  ter- 
minate the  friendship,  he  told  himself,  and  he  would 
be  relieved  of  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  asserting 
hi3  authority  loo  strongly. 

Symes  removed  his  hat  and  flung  it  upon  a  near-by 
chair,  then  turned  to  his  desk.     A  telegram  piopped 

165 


n# 


16G 


THE  I.ADY  D0(^ 


ponspiononsly  upon   the  ink-well   i>n)ved  to  be   from 
Mudfro.  the  promoter,  and  read: 

Have  possil>Ii>  invp<tor  who  wants  dctaileil  infoni.nt  ion. 
BcttiT  conie   on  at  once. 

S.  L.  Mloge 

SyiTies's  face  lip:htec\ 

"This  is  lucky!  It  couldn't  have  been  more  oppor- 
tune! We'll  ^'o  to-morrow  and  I'll  tell  Augusta  while 
we're  pone." 

Thus  the  problem  of  abruptly  ending  the  friend- 
ship without  causing  comment  was  solv('<l.  He  had 
no  misgivings  as  to  the  outeomo  when  he  issued  his 
mandate  concerning  Dr.  llarpe,  but  there  might  be  a 
scene,  and  he  had  a  man's  instinctive  dread  of  a 
family  row  in  case  that  Augusta  was  loath  to  bt'lievi\ 
She  was  loyal  by  nature  and  there  Avas  that  possibility. 

When  his  wife  Ava.s  removed  from  the  intluence 
which  had  undermined  him  in  his  own  home,  the  old 
Augusta  would  return,  he  thought  contidently;  that 
adoring  Augusta  so  Hatteringly  attentive  to  his  opin- 
ions, so  r(>sponsive  to  his  moods.  He  wanted  the  old 
Augusta  back  more  than  he  woidil  havi-  believed 
possible. 

As  his  tli  'igb.ts  slipped  in  retrospect  over  the 
weeks  past  he  could  see  that  the  change  in  her  had 
come  almost  from  the  commencement  of  her  friend- 
ship with  Dr.  Harpe.  lie  shut  his  teeth  hard  as  he 
thought  of  the  banal  intluence  she  had  exercised  over 
a  good  woman;  he  always  had  considered  Augusta 
that. 

Well,  it  was  ended.  They  would  start  once  more 
■with  a  better  understanding  of  each  other,  in  a 
clearer  atmos-phere.     Something  in  the  prospect  made 


SYMES'S  AUTHORITY 


167 


him  glow;  he  lelt  a  boyish  eagerness  to  tell  her  of 
the  proposed  trip,  but  decided  to  wp.it  until  evening,  as 
she  would  then  have  plonty  of  time  to  prepare. 

The  nervous  stram  of  the  day  previous  and  the 
interview  of  the  morning  left  SjTnes  with  a  feeling 
of  fatigue  when  evening  came.  As  he  stretched  him- 
self upon  a  couch  watching  Augusta  moving  to  and 
^ro  freshly  dressed  for  the  dinner  which  had  now 
wiiolly  replaced  the  plebeian  supper  in  the  Symes 
household,  he  was  again  impressed  by  the  impro\:  • 
ment  in  her  appearance. 

The  artificial  wave  in  her  straight,  ash-blond  hair 
softened  greatly  her  prominent  cheek  bones,  and  a 
fri'l  of  lace  partially  hid  the  peasant  hand  that  had 
so  frequently  distressed  him.  Iler  high-heeled  slip- 
pers shortened  and  gave  an  instep  to  her  long,  flat 
foot.  He  smiled  a  little  at  the  prim  dignity  which 
she  unconsciously  took  on  with  her  clothes;  but  that 
at  which  he  did  not  smile  wjus  the  air  ^f  cool  toleration 
with  which  she  listened  to  his  few  remarks.  She 
seemed  restless  and  went  frequently  to  the  door; 
when  they  faced  each  other  at  the  dinner  table  he 
exerted  himself  to  int^'rest  her  and  his  reward  was 
a  shadowy  smile.  He  was  not  at  all  s-ure  that  she 
w;is  listening  and  he  asked  himself  if  this  could  be  the 
woman  who  not  so  long  ago  had  glowed  with  happi- 
ness merely  to  be  noticed?  As  the  meal  progressed 
he  became  alternately  chagrined  and  angry.  Was  the 
chan-re  in  her  more  marked  than  usual,  or  was  it  only 
that  he  was  awake?  He  felt  that  he  could  not  endure 
!u T  vacant,  absent-minded  stare  much  longer  without 
comment,  so  it  was  a  distinct  relief  when  they  arose 
from  the  table.  He  oop.'lnded  to  keep  the  pleasant 
surprise  he  had  for  her  a  little  longer. 


1G8 


THE  LADV  DOC 


He  felt  something  like  a  pnng  when  she  walked 
past  the  porch  chair  where  he  was  sittin'jf  and  went 
to  the  lianimock  at  the  corner  of  the  house.  She  had 
a  book  and  jiassed  him  without  a  glance,  appearing  not 
to  notice  the  hand  which  he  partially  extended  to 
detain  her. 

She  looked  often  toward  the  street  and  he  noticed 
that  she  only  seemed  to  read.  Would  Dr.  Harp.'  keep 
her  word  ?    Symes  believed  that  she  would. 

The  twilight  deepened  and  he  could  plainly  see 
her  restlessness  grow.  She  no  longer  made  a  p-*?- 
tence  of  reading  but  sat  with  her  eyes  upon  the 
street.  Symes  remembered  that  it  had  been  a  long 
time  since  she  had  watched  for  him  like  that.  Fiiially 
she  threw  down  her  book  and  stood  up  that  she  might 
have  a  better  view  of  the  door  of  the  Terriberry 
House.  AVhen  she  start<>d  down  the  sidewalk  toward 
the  gate  Symes  called  her. 

"Augusta!" 

"Yes?"  impatiently. 

"Come  here." 

"What  is  it?"     She  made  no  movement  to  return. 

"If  you  please — one  moment." 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  little  while." 

"But  I  want  to  speak  to  you  now."  His  tone  was 
a  command. 

"Pshaw ! "  She  frowned  in  annoyanc<',  but  reluct- 
antly obeyed. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Over  to  the  hotel,"  she  answered  shortly. 

"Tolook  tor  Dr.  llarpe?" 

Resentment  was  in  her  curt  answer — 

"Yes." 

"Don't  go,  Augusta." 


SY.MES'S  AUTHORITY 


169 


"Why?" 

"Ut'cause  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"Y'>u  can  talk  when  I  come  back." 

"I  want  to  talk  now;  please  sit  down." 

She  made  no  motion  to  do  so. 

"What's  ihe  matter  with  you,  Augusta?" 

"Nothing," — her  lace  was  sullen — "only  I  don't 
like  to  be  ordered  about." 

"I'm  not  ordering  you,  as  yoi^  put  it,  but  I've 
a  surprise  for  you  and  I  want  to  tell  you  of  it." 

For  answer  she  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"We'ro  going  to  Chicago  to-morrow." 

Instead  of  the  pleasure  which  he  anticipated 
would  light  her  dark  eyes,  there  was  a  look  rather  of 
apprehension,  of  disapproval,  of  anything,  in  fact, 
but   delight. 

"Aren't  you  glad?"  he  asked  in  amazement. 

"I'm  not  ready;  I've  no  clothes." 

"We  can  soon  remedy  that." 

She  stood  before  him  in  sullen  silence  and  he 
finally  asked  — 

"Well?" 

"I  don't  want  to  go,  if  you  must  know!"  She 
blurted  ihe  answer  rudelj'  and  turned  away. 

"Augusta!    Wait!" 

"I'm  going  J  the  hotel,"  she  flung  over  her 
shoulder. 

She  kept  on  walking. 

"Come  back." 

Unlatching  the  gate  she  flung  it  open  in  defiance. 

"No!"     She  seemed  like  a  person  obsessed. 

Symes  arose  and  walked  quickly  after  hsr.  She 
stopped  then  and  Symes  wondered  at  his  own  self- 
control  as  he  faced  her. 


iro 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"Augusta,"  he  said  quietly,  "Dr.  Harpe  ia  not 
coming  here  again." 

He  saw  her  face  pale. 

' '  Why  not  ? "    Her  vehemence  startled  him. 

"  Bi'cause  1  have  told  her  not  to ;  she  understands. " 

"How  dare  you?"  Her  voice  rose  shrill  and  her 
eyes  blazed  into  his.    ' '  She  'a  my  friend ! ' ' 

"No,  she's  not  your  friend  or  my  friend."  He 
gra.sped  her  wrist  as  she  started  to  go.  "You've  got 
to  listen;  you've  got  to  hear  me  out!  I  found  her 
out  to-day  and  I  meant  to  tvll  you  whon  we  had  gone 
from  here,  but  you  are  forcing  me  to  do  it  now." 
Still  grasping  her  wrist  he  told  her  briefly  of  the 
interview  and  the  price  he  had  paid  for  her  silence. 
When  he  had  done  she  wrenched  herself  free. 

"I  don't  believe  it!  Anyway,  why  shouldn't  you 
give  her  the  contract?  Why  shouldn't  you?  I  tell 
you  I'm  going  to  her  and  you  shan't  stop  me!" 

"Augusta!"  There  was  horror  in  his  voice,  "Do 
you  realize  what  this  means?  Do  you  understand 
what  you  are  doing— that  you  are  choosing  between 
this  woman  and  me?  Are  vou  crazy?  Are  you 
mad?" 

"Yes,  yes.  yes !  Anything  you  like,  but  I'm  going! 
I  tell  you,  you  shan't  dictate  who  and  who  not  shall 
be  my  friends!" 

"But  she  i«n*t  your  friend!"  he  cried  with  savage 
bitterness.  "She's  your  worst  enemy.  Augusta,"— 
the  harshness  went  suddenly  from  his  voice— "I  beg 
of  you  don't  let  this  woman  comt;  between  us!" 

"You're  a  nice  ouc  •  j  criticise  oth  i-s." 

He  winced  at  the  taunt. 

"I've  tried  to  make  amends,"  he  pleaded. 

"Well— you  haven't!    And,"  she  flung  the  chal- 


SYMES'S  AUTHORITY 


171 


lenge  at  him  recklessly,  "if  you  want  to  get  a  divorce, 
get  it,  for  I'll  quit  you  quick  before  I'll  give  up  Dr. 
Ilarpe. " 

She  stared  into  his  eyes  defiant,  unabashed,  and 
in  her  face  he  read  his  defeat— the  utter  uselessness 
and  futility  of  commands,  or  threats,  or  appeals.  He 
loosened  his  hold  of  her  wrist  without  a  word,  and, 
flinging  him  a  last  glaneo  of  angry  resentment  and 
detiance,  she  walked  swiftly  toward  the  hotel. 


xvr 

The  Top  Wave 

Medical  contracts  between  Dre.  Ilarpe  and  Lamb, 
Andy  P.  Synios  and  the  several  contractors  upon  the 
project,  were  properly  executed  before  Symes  left  for 
Chicago— alone.  It  entailed  a  delay,  but  Dr.  Harpe 
insisted  upon  immediate  action,  and  her  covert  threats 
had  the  desired  result. 

"I've  kept  my  word,"  she  said,  "and  it's  up  to 
you  to  keep  yours.  If  Gus  comes  to  see  me  that's 
your  lookout,  not  mine."  And  since  Symes  could 
not  help  himself,  he  consented,  although  he  knew 
that  the  delay  mijijht  mean  the  loss  of  an  investor. 

Dr.  Ilarpe  quickly  realized  that  she  had  assailed 
him  in  his  most  vulnerable  spot  and  Symes  realized 
IS  surely  that  she  would  use  this  knowledge  to  the 
limit  to  attain  her  cnd^ 

"Am  I  a  e(j\vard  or  a  hero?"  Sym^s  sometimes 
asked  himself  in  his  hours  of  humiliation  and 
ignominy. 

The  Jay  Andy  P.  Symos  left  for  Chicago  Dr. 
Harpc  celebrated  the  era  of  prosperity  upon  which 
she  was  about  to  enter,  by  the  purch.:se  o*"  a  "top- 
buggy,"  which  is  usually  the  first  evidence  of 
Bfflucnce  in  the  "West. 

"Doc's  all  right— she's  smart,"  chuckled  the  popu- 
lace when  they  heard  the  news  of  the  contracc  and 
watched  her  sitting  up  very  straight  in  the  new 
vehicle  with  its  shining  red  wheels  and  neatly  folded 
top. 

"Moses!"  Dr.  Harpe  told  herself  frequently  and 

172 


Tin:  TOP  WAVE 


173 


complaconfly,  "  'getting?  there'  is  easy  enough  if 
you've  only  the  brains  and  the  nerve  to  pull  the 
right  wire,"  and  she  considered  that  she  had  taken 
a  turn  around  Opportunity's  foretop  in  a  manner 
which  would  have  been  creditable  to  a  far  more  experi- 
oneed  hand  than  hers;  also  she  had  no  reason  to 
doubt  that  the  "wire"  upon  which  slu'  now  held  an 
unshakable  grip  held  manifold  possibilities.  By  her 
astuteness  and  daring,  she  assured  herself,  she  was 
in  absolute  control  of  a  situation  which  promised  as 
great  a  success  as  any  person  handicapped  by  petti- 
coats could  hope  for.  Assuredly  the  top  wa\e  made 
pleasant  riding. 

Lamb  accepted  her  partnership  proposition  with 
an  avidity  which  rather  indiiated  that  lie  needed  the 
money.  He  had  no  objections  to  being  a  salaried 
scapegoat  providing  the  pay  was  sure,  but  naturally 
it  did  not  occur  to  Lamb  to  regard  himself  in  any 
such  light.  If  Dr.  Harpe  dubbed  him  her  "peon," 
she  took  care  to  treat  him  and  his  opinions  with  flat- 
tering deference. 

They  rented  a  long,  unpainted,  one-story  building 
which  had  been  a  boarding  house,  for  hospital  pur- 
poses. It  was  divided  lengthwise  by  a  narrow  hall 
which  ended  in  a  dingy  kitchen  in  the  rear.  Dr.  Lamb 
who  had  some  vague  theories  upon  sanitation  pro- 
tested feebly  when  the  operating  room  was  located 
nest  to  the  kitchen,  but  the  location  was  not  changed 
on  that  account.  The  office  in  the  front  was  furnishe'd 
with  a  few  imposing  bottles  and  their  combined  dis- 
play of  cutlery  was  ealealated  to  impress.  Their  ideas 
as  to  keeping  expenses  for  equipment  at  a  minimum 
were  in  perfect  harmony,  for  Lamb  as  well  as  Dr. 
Harpe  regarded  it  a.s  a  purely  commercial  venture. 


174 


TllK  LADV  DOC 


The  lalfor,  how.'v.r,  was  disposed  to  rcjjard  tho  pur- 
chase of  an  X-ray  mafhirK;  as  a  profitable  invi'stmcnt 
because  of  the  impression  it  would  make  upon  their 
private  patients. 

"Moses!"  She  ehortlcd  at  the  notion.  "Wouldn't 
Iheir  eyes  liunir  out  if  I  showed  'eiii  their  own  hones! 
I  could  soak  Vni  twice  the  fee  and  they'd  never 
peep." 

Lamb  diseouratre<l  the  idea  for  the  present  on  the 
•^'rounds  of  eeoiiomy  and  advised  a  sterilizing?  appa- 
ratus instead,  whieh  Dr.  llarpe  opposed  for  the  same 
reason. 

T*"  Dr.  Ilarpe  had  been  fjrivi'U  the  opportunity  of 
selertintr  an  n.ssociate  from  ;  multitude  of  prac- 
titioners, it  is  doubtful  if  she  could  have  found  an- 
otlier  better  suited  to  her  purpose  than  the  man 
Lain!).  Althouirh.  by  sohk;  means,  he  had  succeeded 
in  beini,'  trradiiated  from  an  institution  of  good  repute, 
he  was  a  charlatan  in  every  instinct — greedy,  un- 
serupulous,  covering  the  ignorance  of  an  untrained 
mind  with  a  cloak  of  .solemn  and  pious  pretence  which 
served  its  purpose  in  the  uncritical,  unsuspicious 
western  community  where  a  profession  is  always 
regarded  with  more  or  less  awe. 

Jiamb's  colorless  personality  had  made  no  great 
impression  upon  Crowheart  and  as  yet  he  was  known 
chiiHy  through  his  professional  card  which  appeared 
among  the  advertisements  in  the  Crowheart  Courier. 
Dr.  llarpe  had  not  reckoned  him  a  formidable  rival, 
but  she  recognized  in  him  an  invaluable  associate; 
and  often  as  she  contemplated  his  pasty  face,  his 
elo.se,  deep-set  eyes  and  listened  to  jis  nasal  voice 
she  <'ongratulated  herself  upon  her  choice,  for  he 
was  what  she  needed  most  of  all,  a  j)liable  partner. 


THE  T01»  WAVE 


176 


'Re  you  ^oin'  to  put  u|>  a  si>rn?"  inquirod  Lamb. 

"Sure;  we  want  all  the  advert inin'  w  can  tret  out 
of  this,  don't  we?"  And  soon  the  day  came  when  the 
two  partnefK  stood  aeross  the  street  and  read  proudly: 

IIaKI'K   and    liAMU    IIoSIMTAt 

In  her  new  l)uj,'^'.>  with  its  tlashini,'  wh<'<'Is  Dr. 
Ilarpe  was  soon  drivinp  throu^rh  the  different  camps 
alonj;  the  project,  and  the  laborers  ratht-r  enjoyed 
the  novelty  of  visits  from  the  "  hidy  doc,"  as  they 
called  her,  and  consented  f<ood-na*uredly  enough  to 
the  deduction  of  monthly  dues  for  hospital  benefits 
from  their  wages. 

While  they  regarded  her  professionally  and  per- 
sonally in  a  humorous  light  and  made  her  more  or 
less  the  target  of  coarse  jokes,  as  is  any  woman  who 
leaves  the  beaten  track,  yet  the  general  feeling  toward 
her  was  one  of  friendliness. 

They  laughed  at  her  swaggering  stride,  her  mascu- 
line dress,  the  vernacular  which  was  their  own  speech, 
but  there  w;is  quickly  established  between  them  and 
her  a  good-humored  familiarity  which  was  greatly  to 
h.T  liking.  They  become  "Bill"  aud  "Pat"  and 
"Tony"  to  her  and  she  was  "Doc"  to  them. 

While  her  horses  trotted  briskly  the  length  of  the 
ditch  and  she  was  returning  smiling  nods  and  flinging 
retorts:  that  were  not  too  delicate  over  her  shoulder, 
she  began  to  feel  herself  a  personage;  she  was  filled 
with  a  growing  sense  of  importance  and  power. 

There  was  everything  to  indicate  that  the  contract 
would  prove  all  that  she  and  Lamb  had  hoped  for. 
The  general  health  wa.s  exceptionally  good  and  she 
urged  sanitary  precautions  upon  the  men  to  prevent 
long  and  expensive  fevers;  as  yet  there  was  no  dan- 


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176 


THE  LADY  DOC 


c:erous  reek-work  entailiuj,'  the  use  of  explosives  to 
imperil  the  lives  and  limbs  of  the  raen.  The  remedies 
required  were  of  the  simplest  and  the  running  ex- 
penses of  the  hospital  were  nil. 

When  they  received  their  first  cheeks  from  ihe 
Company  and  the  contractors,  Lamb's  joy  was  almost 
tearful. 

"It's  easier  than  layin'  bricks,  Doc,"  he  said  as 
they  wrung  each  other's  hands  in  mutual  congratu- 
lation. 

Dr.  Harpes  ambii ions  grew  with  her  bank  account, 
and  among  them  there  was  one  which  began  to  take 
the  shape  of  a  fixed  purpose.  \Vith  her  successful 
manipulations  of  conditions  to  further  her  own  ends 
she  came  to  believe  herself  in  her  small  world  invin- 
cible. The  effect  of  this  belief  upon  a  nature  like 
hers  was  to  increase  its  natural  arrogance  and  her 
tendency  to  domineer,  while  the  strange,  extravagant 
personal  conceit  which  seemed  so  at  variance  with  her 
practical  nature  b^'came  a  paramount  trait. 

There  was  n  ally  no  doubt  in  ncr  mind  that 
she  could  marry  Ogd(>n  Van  Lennop  if  she  really  set 
about  doing  so.  It  was  only  of  late  that  she  had  given 
the  thought  words.  In  the  beginning  when  she  had 
discovered  his  identity,  the  most  she  had  hoped  for 
was  to  be  friends,  for  a  friend  of  Van  Lennop 's 
importance  might  be  useful.  She  felt  that  there  would 
be  some  way  of  turning  his  friendship  to  account. 
The  fact  that  they  were  still  only  acfiuaintances  did 
not  discouraiTC  her,  nor  the  fact  that  he  seemed 
entirely  satisfied  with  the  companionship  of  the  erst- 
while  belle   of    Crowheart. 

Rich  men  and  rich  men's  sons  had  a  way  of  amus- 
ing  themselves    with    the   societv   of   their   inferiors 


THE  TOP  WAVE 


177 


where  they  were  unknown,  was  her  disdainful  ex- 
planation to  herself,  but  it  piqued  and  irritated  her 
even  while  it  furnished  the  material  for  her  sly 
innuendoes,  for  the  Insidious  attacks  whieh  were  fast 
completing  what  Andy  P.  Symes's  social  dictatorship 
had  bej^'un.  With  her  mountinur  arrogance  Dr,  Ilarpe 
believed  that  if  her  ultimate  success  in  her  new 
ambition  demanded  the  entire  removal  of  Essie  Tis- 
dale  from  the  field,  this  too  she  could  ac  -omplish.  Iler 
overweeniu<^  confidence  n  w  was  such  that  she  was 
persuaded  that  she  could  i^.iupe  events  and  mould  the 
lives  of  others  and  her  own  as  she  willed. 

She  was  resting  one  day  in  her  new  office  in  the 
hospital  after  a  long  drive  along  the  ditch,  and  from 
her  window  she  watcihed  Van  Lennop  at  the  Kunkel 
blacksmith  shop  across  the  street.  He  gave  his  horse 
a  friendly  pat  between  the  eyes  before  he  swung  into 
the  saddle  and  she  stood  up  to  watch  him  gallop  the 
length  of  the  street  with  the  lithe  and  confident  grace 
which  made  him  a  noticeable  figure  in  the  saddle. 

"Moses!"  she  observed  aloud,  "but  he  has  im- 
proved in  looks  since  he  landed  here— his  looks,  how- 
ever, are  a  mere  incident  compared  to  the  value  of 
his  name  on  the  business  end  of  a  check.  Ilarpe," — - 
she  sniggered  at  a  mental  picture — "how  will  you  look 
anyhow  hanging  to  a  man's  arm?  As  a  clingin'  vine 
you'll  never  be  a  conspicuous  success,  but  you  could 
give  a  fair  imitati(m  if  the  game  was  worth  the  candle, 
and  this  happens  to  be  an  instance  where  it  is.  Let's 
have  a  look  at  you,  my  child." 

She  took  a  small  hand-mirror  from  beneath  the 
papers  of  a  drawer  and  regarded  her  refiection  with  a 
critically  humorous  smile. 

"You're  not  the  dimpled  darling  you  once  were, 


178 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Ilarpe,"  she  said  aloud.  "You're  tired  now  and  not 
at  your  best,  but  all  the  same  there's  a  kind  of  a 
hard-boiled  look  cominpr  that's  a  warninjr,  a  hint  from 
Father  Time,  that  you've  got  to  do  something  in  the 
matrimonial  line  before  it  gets  chronic." 

Still  viewing  herself  in  the  mirror  she  continued 
her  soliloquy — 

"By  rights,  Ilarpe,  you  ought  to  cut  out  these 
pique  vests  and  manly  shirt  bosoms  and  t^ke  to  ruches 
and  frills  and  ruffles.  It  would  be  the  quickest  way 
to  make  a  dent  in  his  heart.  lie's  that  sort.  I  can 
see,  but,  Lord !  how  I  hate  such  prissy  clothes !  Your 
chance  will  come,  Ilarpe,  you'll  wear  the  orange  blos- 
soms now  you've  set  your  mind  on  it,  and.  if  the 
chance  doesn't  come  soon  you'll  have  to  make  it." 


XVII 

The  Possible  Investor 


The  slender,  mild-mannered  young  man  to  whom 
Symes  was  introduced  in  the  office  of  Mudge,  the 
promoter,  was  not  a  person  Symes  himself  would  have 
sintrled  out  as  one  entrusted  with  the  handling  and 
investment  of  the  funds  of  a  great  estate.  He  had  a 
slight  impediment  of  speech,  he  was  modest  to  diffi- 
dence, and  modesty  and  money  was  a  combination 
not  easy  for  Symes  to  conceive,  but  kludge  had  said 
anxiously  upon  Symes 's  arrival: 

"I  hope  yon  make  a  good  impression.  Symes,  and  can 
put  the  proposition  up  to  him  right,  because  if  we  can 
land  him  at  all  we  maybe  al)le  to  land  him  for  the  whole 
cheese,  and  it  will  take  a  load  off  me  if  we  can.  It's 
gettin'  harder  all  the  time  to  place  these  bonds ;  money 
is  tighter  and  people  seem  leary  «f  irrigation  projects. 

"I  had  no  idea  so  many  people  had  been  pecked 
in  the  head  until  I  began  to  handle  this  proposition. 
They're  damned  suspicious  I  can  tell  you.  It's  nearly 
as  easy  to  sell  mining  stock  and,  compared  *o  that, 
peddling  needles  and  pins  from  door  to  door  is  a 
snap.  Talk  it  up  big  but  don't  overdo  it,  for  J.  Collins 
Prescott  is  no  yap." 

"Leave  him  to  me,"  Symes  had  replied  confi- 
dently; "don't  worry.  If  he  has  got  real  money  and 
is  looking  for  a  place  to  put  it,  I'll  see  that  he  finds 
it."  And  Mudge.  noting  the  warmth  of  his  grasp,  the 
heartiness  of  his  big  voice,  the  steady  frankness  of  the 
look  which  the  westerner  sent  into  Prescott 's  eyes, 
felt  that  Symes  was  the  man  to  do  the  trick  and 

179 


I' 


5  !  ' 


y 
ill 


180 


THE  I.ADV  DOC 


congratulated  liimsolf  upon  his  wiscidm  in  sending  for 
him. 

"I— I've  been  looking  through  you're  prospectus, 
Mr.  Symes,"  said  J.  Collins  I'reseott  after  he  had 
been  duly  presented  -ivith  a  cabana  by  that  gentleman, 
"and  it  is  v-vcry  attractive,  I  might  say  a-alluring." 

Symes  beamed  benignly. 

"You  thinlc  so?  I  tell  Mudge  there's  one  fault 
I  have  to  find  with  it— it"s  too  conservative." 

"A  good  fault,"  commended  ^Ir.  Prescott. 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,  better  that  than  overdrawn, 
and  then  it'.s  always  an  agreeable  surprise  to  investors 
when  they  come  out  and  look  the  proposition  over.  If 
you  are  thinking  seriously  of  this  thing,  Mr.  Prescott, 
I  wish  you  could  arrange  to  return  with  me.  I  in- 
variably advise  it.  IVIr.  .Mudge  tells  me  you  have  some 
idle  money  and  I  feel  sure  that  you  could  not  place  it 
where  you'd  get  bigger  returns." 

"W-westcrn  irrigated  lands  have  a-always  inter- 
ested me  c-considerably,"  admitted  Mr.  Prescott,  "but 
heretofore  the  estate  which  I  represent  has  confined 
itself  chiefly  to  the  acquirement  of  water-power  sites 
and  their  development.  They— they're  good  invest- 
ments in  your  opinion?" 

"Undoubtedly,"  was  Mr.  Symes 's  emphativ.  reply. 
"Very;  but  they're  gettin'  scarce,  while  the  irrigating 
of  arid  lands  is  as  yet  in  its  infancy." 

"E-e.\actly.  I  feel  that  we  should  begin  reaching 
out  along  those  lines,  and  although  I  am  not  greatly 
c-eonversant  with  investments  of  this  nature,  I  can 
readily  see  their  possibilities." 

"No  limit!"  declared  Symes.  "Nothin'  but! 
Takes  capital  of  course,  but  the  returns  are  big  and 
sure.     That's  what  we  are  all  looking  for.'* 


THE  POSSIBLE  INVESTOR 


181 


■n 


1 


"I  know  little  if  anything  of  the  actual  construc- 
tion of  a  ditch,  but  I  should  presume  that  the  per- 
sonnel of  the  m-mana,L,'eraeut  would  count  for  much," 
ventured  Mr.  Prescott. 

"Rather!"  Synies  replied  abruptly,  "and  if  I  may 
say  so — if  you  will  pardon  me — the  name  of  Symes 
is  a  valuable  asset  to  any  enterprise — prestige,  you 
know,  and  all  that." 

Prescott  looked  slightly  mystified. 

"The  Symes  of  Maine — grandfather  personal 
friend  of  Alexander  Hamilton's — father  one-time 
Speaker  of  the  House;  naturally  the  name  of  Symes 
stands  for  something." 

Not  a  muscle  of  J.  Collins  Prescott 's  face  moved, 
but  ]\Iudge,  watching  him  keenly,  felt  uncomfortable 
and  a  sudden  annoyance  at  Symes 's  childish  boastings, 
for  30  they  sounded  in  Prescott 's  presence.  Symes 
seemed  unable  to  realize  the  importance  of  the  unas- 
suming young  man  who  listened  so  attentively  but 
non-committally  to  all  that  he  was  saying,  and  in  the 
light  of  their  relative  positions  Mudge  felt  that  Symes 
was  making  himself  a  trifle  ridiculous. 

"Ah,  yes,"  Prescott  replied  courteously,  "Symes 
is  a  notable  name,  but  I  was  considering  the  manage- 
ment from  a  business  rather  than  a  social  point  of 
view.  You  have  a  w-wide  experience  in  this  line? 
You  c-can,  I  presume,  furnish  credentials  as  to  past 
successes,  Mr.  Symes?" 

SjTnes's  natural  impulse  was  to  reply,  "Certainly, 
to  be  sure,  years  of  experience,  delighted  to  furnish 
anything  you  like,"  but  something,  the  voice  of 
caution  or  Mudge 's  warning  look,  induced  him  to  say 
instead : 

"I  can't  say  a  ivide  experience,  Mr.  Prescott,  not 


182 


THE  LADY  DOC 


truthfully  a  icidc  oue,  but  some,  of  course,  in  fact 
considerable.  Experience  isn't  really  necessary; 
h(. rse-seii.se  is  the  thing,  horse-sense,  executive  ability 
and  large-mindedness— these  qualifications  I  think  I 
may  eouscientiouslv  say  1  jjossess  " 

"I— I  see." 

Mudpe  pulled  nervously  at  his  mustache. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  continued  Mr.  SjTnes,  "I 
never  permit  myself  to  be  identified  with  failures. 
When  1  see  that  thin<rs  are  shootin"  the  ihutes  I  pull 
out."  Mr.  Symes  laughed  heartily.  "I  get  from 
under." 

"V-very  wise."  For  an  instant,  the  iafinitessimal 
part  of  a  second,  there  was  a  jrlint  of  anuisement  in 
Prcscott's  mild  eyes  and,  as  he  added,  .Mudge  once 
more  felt  that  uncomfortable  warmth  under  his  collar, 
"Symes  and  success  are  synonymous  terms,  I  infer.'' 

Symes  laughed  modestly. 

But  to  get  down  to  business,  "—there  was  a  sug- 
gestion of  weariness  in  Prescotts  tone— "the  water 
supply  is  ample?" 

"Oceans!    Worlds  of  it,  I  might  say." 

"The  water  rights  perfect— stand  the  severest  legal 
scrutiny?" 

"Absolutely!" 

"Only  engineers  of  recognized  ability  consulted 
and  employed  upon  a  i)roject  of  such  magnitude  I 
infer?" 

Mr.  Symes 's  hesitation  was  so  slight  as  to  be 
scarcely  perceptible. 

"The  best  obtainable." 

"And  approximately  200,©00  acres  of  segregated 
land  can  be  reclaimed  under  your  project?" 

"Every  foot  of  it." 


THE  P0SSII3LE  INVESTOR 


183 


"At  an  expense  of  $250,000,  according  to  the 
figures  in  your  prospectus?" 

"That's  our  estimate  and  the  amount  of  our  lx)nd 
issue.  ' 

"You  believe  you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  dispos- 
ing of  this  land  at  $50  an  acre?" 

"Dispose  of  it?  They 'II  fight  for  it !  Why."  de- 
clared y\v.  Symes,  striking  at  the  air  with  a  gesture 
of  conviction,  "the  whole  country  is  land  hungry." 

"It's  a  liberal  return  upon  the  investment,"  mur- 
mured Prescott. 

"It's  a  big  thing!  And  think  of  the  Russian 
Jews." 

"Pardon  me?" 

"Colonization,  \ou  know,  hundreds  of  Russian 
Jews  out  there  raising  sugar-beets  for  the  sugar-beet 
factory,  happy  as  larks." 

"To  be  sure — I  had  forgotten."  Mr.  Prescott 
reached  for  a  i)rospeetus  upon  the  table  at  his  elbow 
and  looked  at  the  picture  of  a  factorj'  with  smoke 
pouring  from  myriad  chimneys  and  covering  nothing 
short  of  an  acre. 

"The  soil  is  deep  then — strong  enough  to  stand 
sugar-beets?" 

"Rotation  of  crops — scientific  farming,"  explained 
Symes,  "gives  it  a  chance  to  recover." 

Prescott  nodded. 

"I  see.    The  length  of  the  ditch  is " 

"Thirty.five  miles  and  a  fraction." 

"What  is  the  normal  width  and  what  amount  of 
water  does  it  carry?" 

"Sixty-five  feet  and  it  carries  six  feet  of  water." 

"What  is  the  slope?" 

"Two  and  a  half  feet  per  n'ile." 


I 


184 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"How  much  water  to  the  acre  is  applied  in  your 
State?" 

Synies  was  showinpr  some  surprise.  For  a  man 
who  was  not  familiar  with  irri-ration  projects  Pres- 
fott  was  askinfr  decidedly  pertinent  (piestions,  but 
8ymes  answered  ^dibly — 

"A  cubic  foot  per  second  to  each  seventy  acres." 

"And  the  yardage?  AVhat  are  your  enjjineer's 
figures  on  the  yardage?" 

Symes  cleared  hi.s  throat— a  habit  which  mani- 
fested itself  when  he  was  nervous— 

"it  can  be  moved  for  ten  to  fifteen  cents  a  cubic 
yard." 

"C-cheap  enough,"  Prescott  looked  at  him  with 
interested  intentness.     "And  the  loose  rock?" 

"Twenty-five  to  thirty."  Symes  stirred  uneasily 
in  his  chair. 

"And  the  cuts?  the  solid  rock?" 
"Fifty  to  si.xty  cents,"  Symes  replied   after  an 
instant's  hesitation. 

"Ah,  soft  rock.  These  are  your  engineer's  figures, 
of  course?" 

"Of  course,"  Symes  answered  curtly,  and  added: 
"I  should  say  that  you  had  a  good  deal  of  practical 
knowledge  of  such  matters,  Mr.  Prescott." 

Prescott  answered  easily — 

"Superficial,  v-very  superficial,  just  a  little  I 
picked  up  in  railroad  construction." 

There  were  more  questions  as  to  loss  of  water  by 
seepage,  air  and  sub-soil  drainage,  drops,  earth  canals, 
character  and  depth  of  soil,  possibilities  of  alkali,  all 
of  which  (luestions  Symes  answered  readily  enough, 
but  which  at  the  conclusion  left  Symes  with  the  ex- 


THE  POSSIBLE  INVESTOR 


185 


I 


haiistpd  fcoliri^  of  a  lont,'  sossion  on  the  witrirss  stand. 

"Tht^re  are  still  something,'  like  $150,000  worth  of 
bonds  in  the  market,  I  believe?" 

"  Approximately. "  It  was  Mud^'e  who  spoke  up 
hopefully. 

"And  there  is  no  doubt  in  your  min<l,  Mr.  Symes, 
but  that  with  this  amount  you  ean  finish  the  work  at 
the  specified  time  and  in  ,".  manner  satisfactory  to  the 
State  engineers?" 

Symes  jinpled  the  loose  ehanffe  in  his  trousers 
})oekets  and  replied  with  a  lar^'e  air  of  confidence— 

"None  whatever,  sir." 

^Ir.  Prescott  arose  and  stood  for  a  moment  thoupht- 
fully  stroking  the  back  of  one  gray  suede  glove  with 
the  tips  of  the  other. 

"I — I  will  take  the  matter  up  with  my  p-people 
and  give  you  their  decision  shortly." 

His  eyes  were  lowered  so  he  did  not  see  the  look 
which  made  Symes 's  face  radiant  for  an  instant,  but 
he  may  have  imagined  it  was  there,  for  his  lips  curved 
in  ever  so  faint  a  smile. 

"It  has  been  a  p-pleasure  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Symes. " 
Prescott  extended  a  gray  suede  hand.  "I  do  not  feel 
that  the  hour  has  been  wasted,  since  I  have  learned  so 
m-much." 

' '  Ask  any  question  that  occurs  to  you :  my  time  is  at 
your  disposal  as  long  as  I  am  here."  Symes  shook  his 
hand  heartily  in  a  strong  western  grip.  "Great  pleas- 
ure to  converse  with  a  gentleman  again,  T  assure  you." 

Symes  and  kludge  looked  at  each  other  when  the 
door  had  elo.sed  upon  his  back. 

"Tractable  as  a  kitten!"  exclaimed  Symes, 
beaming. 

"Think  so?"    Alndce  did  not  sepm  preatlv  elated. 


186 


Tin-:  I.ADY  DOC 


'•Why,  yos;  don't  you?"    Synuvs  lookcl  siirpriso.l. 
"  'Tnictahl.''   isn't   just    tli.-   won!    I'd   cwr   apply 
to  Prescott."  h.>  au.swert'd  dryly.    "You  dou't  under- 
stand  his  kind." 

"You'ro  wron?  th.>r.\  '  Symos  answered  with 
itsperity.  "Hut  don't  you  tliiuk  wc'iv  ir„iir  to  land 
him?" 

Mndire  sliru<,'2:ed  his  shoulders, 
"ril   hot   you   a   hat!"  cried   Symes   eonfidentiy. 
"I  know  the  difTerenee  between  a  nibble  and  a  bite. 
I  tell  you  Prescott  s  hooked." 

"I  hope  you're  rl^jht"— Mudge's  tone  was  doubt- 
ful— "but  get  it  out  of  your  head  that  he'.s  an  easy 
mark.  I  know  that  outfit:  they're  conscrvctive  as  a 
country  bank.  Preseott  didn't  ask  ijuestions  enough." 
"Didn't  ask  questions  enough?  Lord  amighty, 
he  was  cocked  and  primed." 
Mudge  smiled  grimly. 

"  Xot  for  Preseott.  Besides,  it's  not  like  them  to  go 
into  a  proposition  like  this  without  further  investi- 
gation. If  they'd  send  an  engineer  back  with  you  I'd 
begin  to  hope  " 

"Bosh!"  Symes  exclaimed  impatiently.  "My 
name  counts  for  something  in  a  game  like  this." 

IMudge  was  unresponsive. 

"Gentlemen  understand  each  other,"  Symes  went 
on  complacently,  "intuition— hunch— kind  of  a  silent 
sympathy.  I  tell  you.  Mudge.  I'm  goin'  to  win  a  hat 
off  you." 

After  leaving  the  office  of  IMudge,  the  promoter. 
J.  Collins  Prescott.  sauntered  into  a  secluded  waiting- 
room  in  a  near-by  hotel  and  sank  into  the  depths  of  a 
hu-e  leather  chair.  He  took  a  voluminous  tvpo-writ- 
ten  report  from  the  pocket  of  his  fashionable  top-eoat 


THE  POSSIBLE  INVKSTUU 


187 


nnd  ffl!  to  studying  it  with  intcrtst  and  raro.  lie 
was  rntrrossed  in  its  ccntont:?  i,  r  neiirly  an  hour,  and 
uhrn  he  had  fiuishrd  he  replaced  it  in  his  pocket. 
Then  he  sauntere<i  to  the  telegrapher's  station  in  the 
corner  of  the  hotel  office  and  wrote  upon  a  blank 
with  swift  decision  a  telefrram  which  seemed  a  trifle 
at  variance  with  the  ahnost  foppish  elejjance  of  his 
appearance.     Tlie  tele^'rnm  read: 

Crookfd  au  a  dog's  hind  leg.     I'.uy. 


xvirr 

"Her  Supreme  Moment" 

Dr.  IIarpe  had  surprisinfrly  pooil  shouidors  for 
so  slender  a  woman — white,  well  rounded,  and  with 
a  irentle  feminine  -dope.  That  she  never  had  been 
f:\yov  the  opportundy  of  showing  them  to  Crowheart 
had  been  a  matter  of  some  regret.  Iler  ehauce  came 
when  Andy  P.  Symes  celebrated  the  sale  of  $150,000 
wortli  of  bonds  by  an  invitation  ball  in  the  dining- 
room  of  the  Terriberr  ,   House. 

Elation  over  the  placing  of  t;i?se  bonds  with  the 
estate  represented  by  J.  Collins  Preseott  mitiu'ated 
in  some  sliirht  degree  the  humiliation  and  bitterness 
of  his  feelings  when,  upon  his  return  from  his  success- 
ful business  trip,  he  found  that  not  only  had  Grand- 
mother Kunkel  gone  a.s  she  had  foresecR  she  would 
go,  but  Dr.  IIarpe  had  resumed  her  visits  as  before 
and  vouchsafed  to  him  no  word  of  explanation  or 
apology  at  the  deliberate  violation  of  her  promise. 

In  any  ca-se,  as  Symes  saw  clearly  now,  the  fultil- 
nient  of  it  would  have  been  futile  so  far  as  ending 
the  intimacy  was  concerned,  for  the  only  result  would 
have  been  that  Augusta  would  have  done  the  visiting. 
That  he  let  the  matter  of  Dr.  IIarpe 's  broken  word 
pass  without  protest  evidenced  the  completeness  of  his 
capitulation,  his  entire  realization  of  the  hopelessness 
of  resistance  to  the  situation,  a.s  did  also  the  silence  in 
which  he  accepted  Augusta's  cold  explanation  of 
Grandmother  Kunkel's  departure. 

It  is  not  likely  th.-'t  more  time  and  care  is  devoted 
to  the  making  up  of  the  list  for  a  court  ball  than 

188 


"HER  SUPREME  MOMENT" 


189 


Symes  bestowed  upon  the  selection  of  guests  for 
the  proposed  function,  which  he  intended  should  leave 
an  indelible  impression  upon  Crowheart.  It  was 
a  difficult  task,  but  when  completed  the  result  was 
gratifying. 

No  person  whom  Symcs  could  even  dimly  foresee 
as  being  of  future  use  to  himself  was  omitted  and  with 
real  astuteness  he  singled  out  those  who  had  within 
themselves  the  qualities  which  made  for  future  im- 
portance. Even  ,Mrs.  Ahe  Tiitts,  who,  he  hatl  learned, 
was  second  cousin  to  a  railroad  president,  was  thrown 
into  a  state  of  emotional  intoxication  by  receiving  the 
first  printed  invitation  of  her  life.  Besides,  ^Mrs. 
Tutts  had  turned  her  talents  churchward  and  now 
ruled  the  church  choir  ^\ith  an  iron  hand.  While  her 
husky  rendition  of  the  solo  parts  of  certain  anthems 
was  strongly  suggestive  of  the  Bijou  Theatre  with  its 
adjoining  beer  garden,  her  efforts  were  highly  praiised. 
This  invitaticm  demonstrated  clearly  that  :\Irs.  Tutts 
was  rising  in  the  social  scale. 

It  was  due  to  a  suggestion  from  Dr.  Ilarpe,  made 
through  Augusta,  that  Van  Lennop  also  received  his 
first  social  recognition  in  Crowheart. 

"I  don't  know  who  the  fellow  is,"  SvTnes  de- 
murred. In  reality  his  reluctance  was  largely  due  to 
a  secret  resentment  that  Van  Lennop  had  seemed  to 
withstand  so  easily  the  influence  of  his  genial  person- 
ality. Their  ac(]uaintance  never  had  passed  the  nod- 
ding stage  and  the  fact  had  picjued  Syme,  more  than 
he  cared  to  admit.  "Besides,  he  has  elected  to  identify 
himself  with   rather  singular  company." 

"Xo  doubt  he  has  been  hmely,"  defended  :\rrR. 
8ymes  mildly,  "and  of  course  Essie  is  pretty." 

When  Van  Leunop  found  the  invitation  "n  vfae 


190 


THE  LADY  DOC 


mail  a  couple  of  days  later  he  t'rowued  in  mingled 
aiHKjyance  and  anius<'ment. 

"Discovered,"  he  said  dryly,  quickly  guessing  its 
import. 

Dr.  llarpe's  increased  friendliness  had  not  escaped 
him  and  it  had  occurred  to  him  that  their  frequent 
meetings  were  not  entirely  accidental,  l*a«t  experi- 
ences had  taught  him  the  significance  of  certain  signs. 
and  when  Dr.  Ilarpe  appeared  with  her  hair  curled 
and  wearing  a  lingerie  waist,  the  fact  which  roused  the 
risibilities  of  her  friends  stirred  in  him  a  feeling 
which  resembled  the  instinct  of  self-preservation. 

Van  Lennop's  brow  contracted  as  he  re-read  the 
invitation  in  his  room. 

"Confound  it!  I'm  not  ready  to  be  discovered 
yet."  Then  he  grinned,  in  spite  of  himself,  at  the 
hint  in  the  corner— "full  dress."  He  flung  it  con- 
temptuously upon  the  washstand.  "What  an  as.s!" 
and  it  is  to  be  feared  he  referred  to  the  sole  repre- 
sentative of  the  notable  House  of  Symcs. 

The  initial  step  in  Crowheart  toward  preparing 
for  any  function  was  a  hair  washing,  and  the  day 
following  tlie  mailing  of  the  invitations  saw  the  for- 
tunate recipients  drying  their  hair  on  their  respective 
back  steps  or  hanging  over  dividing  fences  with  flow- 
ing locks  in  animated  discussion  of  the  coming  event. 
That  there  was  some  uncertainty  as  to  the  exact 
meaning  of  the  request  to  wear  "full  dress"  may  be 
gathered   from   :\rrs.   Abe  Tutts's  observation,  w'hih^ 
drying  a  few  dank  hairs  at  Mrs.  Jackson '.s  front  gate, 
that  it  was  lucky  she  had  not  ripped  up  her  accordion - 
pleat'-d  skirt  v.-hich  was  as  full  as  anybody  could  wear 
and  hope  to  get  around  in  I 

"Taint  that,"  Mrs.  Jaelxson  snorted  in  her  face. 


"  HER  SUPREME  MOMENT  " 


191 


"The  fuller  a  dress  is  the  less  they  is  of  it.  You're 
thinkin'  of  a  masquerade,  maybe.  Personally  my- 
st  If, "  declared  Mrs.  Jackson  modestly,  "1  don't  aim  to 
expose  my  shoulder  blades  for  nobody — not  for 
jiobodfi.'' 

"I'd  do  it  if  I  was  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Tutts  signifi- 
cantly. 

"Why,  if  you  was  me?"  in(iuired  ]\Irs.  Jackson, 
bitinfj  guilelessly. 

"Because" — Mrs.  Tutts  backed  out  of  reach — 
"they's  a  law  agin'  carryin'  concealed  weapons." 

Mrs.  Tutts  did  not  tarry  to  complete  the  drj-ing 
of  her  hair,  for  ]\Irs.  Jackson  had  succeeded  in  wrench- 
inf:  a  Tialing  from  the  fence  and  was  fumbling  at  the 
catch  on  the  gate. 

The  dining-room  of  the  Terriberry  House  was  a 
dazzling  sight  to  the  arriving  guests,  who  were  im- 
pressed to  momentary  speechlessness  by  such  evi- 
dences of  wealth  and  elegance  as  real  carnations  and 
smilax  and  a  real  orchestra  imported  from  the  nearest 
large  town  on  the  main  line.  The  sight  which  held 
their  eyes  longest,  however,  was  a  large  glass  bowl 
on  a  table  in  an  anteroom,  beside  which,  self-conscious 
but  splendid  in  new  evening  clothes,  stood  ilr.  SjTnes 
urging  an  unknown  but  palatable  beverage  hospitably 
upon  each  arrival. 

"This  is  cert'nly  a  swell  affair,"  they  confided  to 
each  other  in  whispers  behind  the  back  of  their  hands 
after  the  first  formal  greetings.  "Trust  Andy  P. 
for  doin'  things  right." 

They  frankly  stared  at  each  other  in  unaccustomed 
garb  and  sometimes  as  frankly  laughed. 

"Gosh!"  said  Mr.  Terriberry  a.s  he  sniffed  the 
pungent  atmosphere  due  to  the  odor  of  camphor  eman- 


192 


THE  LADY  DOC 


ating  from  clothing  whieh  had  laiu  in  tho  bottom  of 
trunks  since  the  wearers  had  "wa^'oned  it"  in  from 
Iowa  or  Nebraska,  "looks  like  you  might  call  this 
here  function  a  moth  ball." 

Mr.  Terriberry  himself  gave  distinction  to  the 
gatliering  l)y  appearing  in  a  dinner  jacket,  borrowed 
fr(<m  the  tailor,  and  his  pearl  gray  wedding  trousers, 
preserved  sentimentally  by  Mrs.  Terriberry. 

Mr.  Abe  ''J'utts.  in  a  frock  coat  of  minstreldike  cut 
and  plum-colored  trousers  of  shiny  diagonal  cloth, 
claimed  his  share  of  public  attention.  For  the  sake 
of  that  peace  whieli  he  had  come  to  prize  highly,  Mr. 
Tutts  had  consented  to  make  a  "dude"  of  himself. 

Mr.  Abe  Tutts,  in  a  frock-coat  of  minstrel-like  cut 
dinner  clothes  which  upon  a  previous  occasion  had 
given  Crowheart  its  first  sight  of  the  habiliment  of 
polite  society.  If  their  exceeding  snugness  had 
caused  him  discomfiture  then  his  present  sensations 
were  nothing  less  than  anguish.  His  collar  was  too 
high,  his  collar-band  too  tight,  the  arm-holes  of  his 
jacket  checked  his  circulation,  and  his  w^aistcoat  inter- 
fered with  the  normal  action  of  liis  diaphragm,  while 
Mr.  Parrott  firmly  refused  to  sit  out  dances  for 
reasons  of  his  own.  It  wa.s  apparent  too  that  he 
selected  partners  only  for  such  numbers  on  the  pro- 
gramme as  called  for  steps  of  a  sliding  or  gliding 
nature,  for  Mr.  Parrott  had  the  timid  caution  of  an 
imaginative  mind.  Following  him  with  anxious  eyes 
was  Mrs.  Parrott  looking  like  an  India  famine  sufferer 
ilecollete. 

From  the  bottom  of  that  mysterious  wai'drobe 
trunk,  which  resembled  the  widow's  cruse  in  that  it 
seemed  to  have  no  limitations,  Mrs.  Abe  Tutts  had 
resurrected  an  aigrette  which  sprouted  from  a  knob 


"  HER  SUPREME  MOMENT  " 


193 


of  hair  tightly  twisted  ou  the  top  of  her  head.  As  the 
eveninj,'  advanced  and  the  exercise  of  the  dance 
loosened  Mrs.  Tutts's  simple  coiffure,  the  aigrette 
slipped  forward  until  that  lady  resembled  nothing  so 
much  as  a  sportive  unicorn. 

Mrs.  Tcrri berry  wa.s  unique  and  also  warm  in  a 
long  pink  boa  of  curled  chicken  feathers  which  she 
kept  wound  clos.'ly  abuut  her  neck. 

The  red  and  feverish  appearance  of  Mrs.  Alv3 
Jackson's  eyelids  was  easily  accounted  for  by  the 
numberless  French  knots  on  her  new  peach-blow  silk, 
but  she  felt  more  than  repaid  for  so  small  a  matter  as 
strained  eyes  by  the  look  of  astonishment  and  envy 
which  she  surprised  from  .Airs.  Abe  Tutts,  who  had 
exhausted  her  ingenuity  in  trying  to  discover  what 
she  meant  to  wear. 

Mrs.  "Ed"  Ricketts  in  black  jet  and  sequins,  decol- 
lete, en  train,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  husband,  Avho 
was  attired  in  a  pair  of  copper-riveted  overalls,  new 
and  neat,  was  as  noticeable  a  figure  as  any  lady 
present. 

Mrs.  Ricketts 's  French  creation  was  a  souvenir  of 
a  brief  but  memorable  period  in  the  history  of  the 
Ricketts  family. 

A  few  years  previous  Mr.  Ricketts  had  washed 
$15,000  from  a  placer  claim  in  an  adjoining  State 
and  started  at  once  for  Europe  to  spend  it,  meaning 
to  wash  $15,000  more  upon  his  return.  In  his  absence 
some  one  washed  it  for  him.  When  he  came  back  with 
a  wide  knowledge  of  Pai-isian  cafes,  a  carved  bed- 
stead, two  four-foot  cendelabra  and  six  trunks  filled 
with  Mrs.  Ricketts 's  gowns,  but  no  cash,  it  was  a 
shock  to  learn  that  financially  he  was  nil.  After 
months  of  endeavor  in  other  lines  there  seemed  no 
18 


I 


194 


THE  LADY  DOC 


alternative  but  to  light  hLs  four-foot  candelabra  and 
die  of  starvation  in  his  carved  bedstead,  or  herd  sheep, 
so  he  wisely  decided  upon  the  latter.  Mrs.  Ricketts 
adapted  herself  to  the  situation  and  made  petticoats 
of  her  court  trains  and  drove  the  sheep-wagon 
decollete,  so  Crowheart  was  more  or  less  accustomed 
to  Mrs.  Ricketts  in  silk  and  satin. 

Dr.  Harpe  did  not  come  down  until  the  evening 
was  well  along,  but  the  delay  produced  the  effect 
she  intended.  As  she  appeared,  fresh  and  cool  with 
her  hair  in  perfect  order,  at  the  end  of  a  number 
which  left  the  dancers  red  and  dishevelled,  she  caused 
a  sensation  that  could  not  well  have  been  otherwise 
than  flattering.  Crowheart  stared  in  candid  amaze- 
ment  and  admiration. 

Her  sheer,  white  gown  fell  from  sloping,  well  pow- 
dered shoulders  and  its  fihniness  softened  wonder- 
fully the  lines  which  were  beginning  to  harden  her 
face.     She  had  dressed  with  the  eagerness  of  a  debu- 
tante,   and    her    eyes    were    luminous,    her    cheeks 
delicately  flushed  with  the  excitement  of  it  and  with 
happiness  at  the  visible  impression  she  was  making. 
Dr.  Harpe  could,  upon  occasions,  assume  an  air 
which  gave  her  a  certain  distinction  of  carriage  and 
manner  which  was  the  direr-t  antithesis  of  the  careless, 
swaggering,    unfeminine    creature    that    Crowheart 
knew,  and  as  she  now  came  slowly  into  the  ballroom 
it  is  little  wonder  that  a  buzz  went  round  after  the 
first   flattering   silence   of   astonishment,    for   even   a 
stranger  would  have  singled  her  out  at  a  glance  from 
the  perspiring  female  crudities  upon  the  floor. 

She  looked  younger  by  years  and  with  that  unex- 
pected winsomeness  which  was  her  charm.  The  mur- 
mur of  approval  was  a  tribute  to  her  femininity  that 


•'HER  SUPREME  MOMENT 


195 


was  music  in  her  ears.  The  night  promised  to  be  one 
of  triumph  which  she  intended  to  enjoy  to  the  utmost, 
but  to  her  it  ensured  more  than  that,  for  Ogden  Van 
Lennop  was  there,  as  she  had  seen  in  one  swift  glance, 
and  it  meant,  perhaps,  her  "chance." 

For  reasons  of  his  own  Van  Lennop  finally  decided 
to   accept   the   invitation   which   at   first   thought   he 
fully  intended  to  refuse.    He  figured  that  he  had  time 
to  telegraph  for  his  clothes,  and  this  he  did  with  the 
result  that  Crowheart  stared  as  hard  almost  at  him 
as  at  Dr.  Harpe's  amazing  transformation.     The  re- 
stM-ved,  unapproachable  stranger  in  worn  corduroys, 
who  had  come  to  be  tacitly  recognized  as  an  object  of 
suspicion,  was  not  readily  reconciled  with  this  suave, 
self-possessed  young  man  in  clothes  which  they  felt 
intuitively  were  correct  in  every  detail.     He  moved 
aniorig  them  with  a  savoir-faire  which  was  new  to 
Crowheart,  talking  easily  and  with  flattering  defer- 
ence +0  this  neglected  lady  and  that,  agreeable  to  a 
point  which  left  them  animated  and  coquettish.     lie 
danced  with  Mrs.  Terriberry,  he  escorted  Mrs.  Tutts 
to  the   punch  bowl,   he  threw   Mrs.   Jackson's  scarf 
about   her   shoulders   with   a   gallantrv-   that   turned 
Jackson  green,  a  neat  compliment  sent   ]Mrs.   Percy 
Parrott  oflp  in  a  series  of  the  hysterical  shrieks  which 
always  followed  when  Mrs.  Parrott  found  herself  at 
a  loss  for  words.    Long  before  Dr.  Harpe  's  appearance 
it  had  begun  to  dawn  upon  Crowheart  that  in  holding 
aloof  in  unfriendly  suspicion  the  loss  had  been  theirs, 
for  it  was  being  borne  in  even  upon  th(Mr  ignorance 
that  Van  Lennop 's  sphere  was  one  in  which  thev  did 
not  "belong." 

Dr.    Harpe    quickly   demonstrated    that   she    was 

eaSllv   the   best-    rl«nppr    in    fVio   »./^r.Tvl      nr,r\    +!,«•.„ __ 


i 


h 

1$: 


196 


THE  LADY  DOC 


dearth  ol  partners  after  the  first  awe  of  her  had 
^vorn  (.fT\  but  her  satisfaetion  in  her  nifjht  of  triumph 
^vas  rH>t  eo,npl.te  until  Van  Leunop-«name  wa.  upon 
Jier  pr()j,'ranime. 

K^sie  Tisciale,  busy  ols-^whero.  ha<l  her  first  plimpsc 
o    th.  ballroom  where  Van  ].,>Mnop  claimed  his  dance 
She  frrew  white  even  to  her  lips,  and  h.-r  knees  shook 
i.naoeountably  beneath  her  a.s  she  watrh.d  Dr   llarne 
Phde  the  len,nh  of  th.  room  in  Van  h.nnop's  arms 
ihe  momentary  pain  she   fvlt  in   her  heart  had  the 
po.i,'naney   of  an   aetual   stab.      It   wa.s  so-so  unex- 
pe<-ted:  he  had  so  unequivoeally  ranged  hin.self  upon 
iu'r  side    he  had  .seen   so  plainly   Dr.   Ilarpe's  illv- 
.oneca  ed  ven<m,  and  resented  it  in  his  quiet  way,  as 
•she  had  thought,  that  this  se.med  like  disloyalty,  and 
H.     he   first   shock   of   bewilderment   an.l    pain'  kssie 
J  .sdale  was  conscious  only  that  the  one  person  in  all 
the  world  upon  whom  she  had  felt  .she  could  count  was 
bemi,--  taken  from  her. 

Van    1.,-nnop   had    told   her  of  his   invitation   in 
amusement  and  later  had  remarked  carelesslv  that  he 
nught  accept,  but  apparently  ha.l  given  it  n^  furthe- 
thought.     Even  in  he^  unhappiness  the  girl  wa.s  fair 
to  her  mercde.vs  enemy.     She  looked   well-far    far 
more  attractive  than  Essie  would  have  believed'  pos- 
sible,   softer,    more    feminine    and-more    dangerous 
Van  Lennop  was  human ;  and.  after  all,  as  she  was 
forced  to  recognize  more  and  more  fully,  she  was  only 
the  pretty  biscuit-shooter  of  the   Terriberrv   House 
Essie   Tisdale   pushed   the   swinging  doors   from   her 
with  a  shaking  hand  and  managed  somehow  to  get 
back  mto  the  kitchen  where,  as  she  .nought,  with  a 
strange,  new  bitterness,  she  belonged 

Van  Lennop  did  not  leave  Dr    Harpe  when  the 


"HER  SUPREME  MOMENT"  197 

waltz  was  done,  but  seated  himself  beside  her,  first 
parting  the  curtain  that  she  might  get  the  air  and 
showing  a  solicitude  for  her  comfort  so  different 
from  the  cold,  impersonal  courtesy  of  months  that  her 
heart  beat  high  with  triumph.  Verily,  this  propitious 
beginning  was  all  she  needed  and,  she  told  herself 
again,  was  all  she  asked.  While  she  believed  in  her- 
self and  her  personal  charm  when  she  chose  to  exercise 
it.  Van  Lennop's  tacit  recognition  of  it  brightened 
her  :yes  and  softened  her  face  into  smiling  curves  of 
happiness. 

Van  Lennop  toyed  with  her  fan  and  talked  idly 
of  impersonal  things,  but  there  was  a  veiled  look  of 
curiosity  in  his  eyes,  a  kind  of  puzzled  wonder  each 
time  that  they  rested  upon  her  face.     As  he  covertl/ 
studied  her  altered  expression  and  manner,  strongly 
conscious    of    the    different    atmosphere    which    she 
created,  there  rose  persistently  in  his  mind  Stevenson's 
story  of  the  strange  case  of  Dr.  Jekell  and  Mr.  Hyde. 
He  CO   '  \  not  conceive  a  more  striking  example  of  dual 
personal  ^y  or  double  consciousness  than  Dr.  Ilarpe 
now  pre:  ^nted.     There  was  a  girlish  shyness  in  her 
fluttering  glance,  honesty  in  the  depths  of  her  limpid 
hazel  eyes,  while  her  white,  unmarred  forehead  sug- 
gested the  serenity  of  a  good  woman,  and  Van  Lennop 
was  dimly  conscious  that  for  some  undefined  reason  he 
never  had  thought  of  her  as  that.     She  had  personal 
magnetism— that  he  had  conceded  from  the  first,  for 
invariably  he  had  found  himself  sensible  of  her  pres- 
ence even  when  disliking  her  the  most.    To-night  he 
was  more  strongly  aware  of  it  than  ever. 
"You  are  enjoying  the  evening?'' 


198 


THE  LADV  i)OC 


moment  in  his  eves      "  \n<l   vnn?"   ,.  i  r  •  ■■ 

<.  .  ,  ^  '^"^  '^<^U'      adUin<,'  quickly, 

An  unu..,v.^sary  cjurstion^-your  face  is  fhe  answer '' 
Jihe  Jauf^'hed  li^'htly. 

"It  doesn't  l).-lie  mo,  for  I  like  this- immensely. 
Flo-ssyinj,^  up  oecasionally  l.elps  n.e  i<eep  n.y  self- 
r.-.sp(-et.  You  didn't  expect  to  find  tuis  sort  of  thiut? 
out  here,  did  you'/" 

He  looked   at  her  oddly,   not  sure  that  she   was 
serious.      Wa.s   it   possible   that   she   did   not  see   the 
raw  ahsurd.ty  of  it  all  /     Son.ehow  h.  had  thought 
that  she    'helon,n.,r'  a  little  more  than  this;  her  un- 
usual selt-,,ossession  .,Mve  the  impression  perhaps      Tfe 
glanced  at  the  attenuated  Mrs.  I'erey  Parrott,  at' Mrs 
!^yIvanus  Starr,  exhilarated  l.y  numerous  ^dasses  of 
punch,  caperin,.  throu,d,  an  impromptu  Cakewalk  with 
Tuihorn  Frank,  at  M.-s.  Andy  P.  Syn.es,  solenu,  an.I 
as  .  >fily  ereet  as  a  ramrod,  tryin.  t.)  manage  her  first 
ra.n    and  \  an  LennopV  lips  curved  upward  ever  so 
rc'^K.If:  ""'""  ^"'^  '^'  ^'''P''  =^"^^ty  when  he 

"Scrrcely." 

She  shot  a  rpiick  look  at  him. 
"You  don't  like  it  "  she  asserted 
Van  Lennop  smiled  sli.irhtly  at  her  keenness. 
To  he  candid.  T  d..n't.     Th-  ^Vest  has  always 
been  a  bit  of  a  hobby  of  mine  since  I  wa.s  a  lad  and 
adored  Da.->-  Crockett  and  strained  my  eve    ov  Vthe 
adventures  of  Lewis   and   Clark.      I   lik,:   the   pie  u! 
rc.srp,eness,  the  naturalness,  the  big,  kind  spirit  of  the 
old  days  and  I'm  sorry  to  see  them  gcv-prematurely- 
for  that  whieh  takes  their  place  makes  no  appeal  to 
the  heart  or  the  imairination.     It  is  only  a-well-a 
poor  imitation  of  somethiufr  else. 

"With  no  notion  of  criticising  my  host.  T  must  say. 


"HER  SUPREME  MOMENT 


199 


that  in  my  opinion  those  who  introduce  these  irnova- 
tions"—  he  inehided  the  hallroom  with  a  slight  move- 
ment of  her  folded  fan— "are  robhinj.'  the  West  of  its 
trieatest  eharni.  But  then."  he  eoneluded  li^'htly,  and 
with  a  slipht  inclination  of  his  hf>ad,  "if  I  were  a 
woman  and  the  resiuts  of— er— 'tiossying  up'  were 
as  prratifyin-,'  as  in  yo.ir  ease,  for  instance,  I  might 
welcome  such  opportunities." 

Dr.  Ilarpi'  raised  her  eyes  to  his  for  one  fluttering 
second  and  achieved  a  blush  while  he  smii.-d  down 
upon  her  with  the  faint,  impersonal  smile  which  was 
oftenest  on  his  face. 


'Must  this  once,  my  dear,  and  T  won't  ask  you  to 
go  in  there  again.  1  know  how  hard  it  must  be  for 
you." 

"Not  at  all"— E.ssie  had  looked  at  Mrs.  Terriberry 
bravely— "I  will  do  whatever  is  to  be  done." 

She  picked  up  a  tray  of  fresh  gla.sses  for  the  tabic 
in  the  well  patronized  ant.  ^oni  as  she  spoke  and 
pa.ssed  through  the  swinging  door  in  time  to  see  Dr. 
Harpe's  uplifted  eyes  and  blush  and  Van  Lennop's 
answering  smile. 

The  glases  jingled  upon  the  tray  in  her  unsteady 
hand,  but  her  little  mouth  shut  in  a  red,  straight  line 
as  she  nerved  herself  for  the  ordeal  of  passing  them. 
She  came  toward  them  with  her  head  erect  and  a  set 
look  upon  her  young,  almost  childish  face,  and  Van 
Lennop  catching  sight  of  her  intuitively  guessed  some- 
thing of  her  thoughts  and  interpreted  aright  the 
strained  look  upon  her  white  face. 

"She  thinks  me  disloyal,"  flashed  into  his  mind, 
and  he  all  but  smiled  at  the  id:]'a. 


S«;ff  o 


CI      -xirctrt 


+U  ^    ,^  - 


'  CI~      Lli"      IjC«r 


oil;;.;  vi   liic  SulTiy  iiilcrcsLed 


200 


'iHi:   LADY   Doc 


expression  „,...„  V.n  L.nnops  fa,v.  Dr.  Unrpo  rnupht 
it  and  mvoluntnnlv  tiinird  h,,-  |„,„1  f,,  lollow  |,,s 
gaze. 

Essio  Ti.s.lnl..!  II.T  la.v  hnnl..„..,|  ,nul  ,.ll  \ur 
sIunilx-riMj,'  .|..al..usy  an<l  hatmi  ..f  th..  u'lrl  Irap.-.l  to 
hh-  m  a  nia.l,  univaMmintr  .l.^sirc  lo  ,|o  h.r  liarni. 
bodily  harm;  she  tinglrd  with  a  lon^.i,,,.  f„  i,„|i,.t 
physical   pjiju. 

The  whirling  dan.vrs  „ia,l,.  if  n.Mvssarv  for  Kssio 
to  pass  clos...  rh.s..  numish  to  [.rush  th.-  sl<,rfs  of  th.. 
wonirn  ...vupyin-  th.-  chairs  alonir  the  wall,   and  as 
Rhc  can,.,  t.mard  th.-tn   with   h.T  h.-a.j   cnvt.   looki,,-. 
straight  i...r..r.-  h.T,  Dr.  Harp.-  a.-t.-.i  upon  an  un-.^r. 
qucrahlc  unpnlsc  and  slid  her  slip[,cr..d  to.-  from  h.>- 
Loath  h.M-  skirt.     Th.rc  was  a  crash  .,f  -dass  as  th,- 
p:>rl  trippci  and  f.-Il  h.-a.ilon^-.     Tinhorn  Frank  .-iif- 
tawcd;  a  f..w  of  his  ilk  <lid  likcwi.s.^  hnt  th..  laiKdit.-r 
du-d  upon  their  lips  at  the  blazing  glance  Van  L.-nnop 
tlashcd  them. 

"Essi...  y..n  are  hurt!     Tour  hand  is  l)lecdin.''" 
Dr.  irarj>e  shut  her  teeth  hard  at  the  concern  in 
Van  L..nn.>p's  voice  as  he  udped  the  f,Mri  to  her  f.^et 
but  Hicr..  was  solicitude  in  her  tone  wh.-n  she  said:    ' 
'Let  me  see  if  there's  gla.ss  in  it,  Essi.'  " 
Th..  irirl  h..sitat..d   for  an  instant,  then   with  an 
onitrmat„.al  .smile  extended  her  han.l,  hut  there  was 
nothin-  eni,t,'matical  in  the  si.lelon-  look  which  Van 
Lennop  jrave  Dr.  TTarpe.  a  look  that,  ha.l  she  seen  it 
would  f.)r  once  have  made  her  grateful  for  h.-r  sex' 
Subconsciously  he  ha.l  seen  the  slight  movement  of 
her  foot  and  leg  as  Essie  Tisdale  pas.sed,  but  ha.l  not 
grasped  its  sin-uificance  until  the  g,r1  fell. 

"I  don't  think  there's  any  glass  in  it.  but  wash  it 


'I 


"HKii  srr II i:\iH  momknt 


aoi 


out  well  and  hriii^,'  m.'  a  harula^'c     You  got  a  hard 
fall;  you  must  have  slipped." 

"Vts,  I  rdust  havf  .siipp<Ml."  Ilor  smile  this  time 
was  ironic. 

The  ni^ht  I'uKillcd  the  promise  of  the  cvenintr.  It 
was  a  succession  of  triinnphs  for  Dr.  Ilarpe.  The 
floor  wiis  air  h.Ticatli  lirr  iVct  .irid  the  combination  of 
insidious  i)inicli  and  sensuous  music  turned  her  cold, 
slow-runnintr  blood  to  fire.  Sin-  w;us  the  undisputed 
belle  of  t).e  evening',  and  they  took  the  trailing  smila.x 
from  the  si<lc  lamps  on  the  wall  and  made  her  a 
wreath  in  laii<;hing  aeknowledt,'ment  of  the  fact.  It 
was  such  an  hour  tin  she  had  dreamed  of  and  the 
reality  fuKilled  every  expectation. 

She  had  attracted  Van  Lenno[)  to  herself  at  bust; 
she    had    arousiwl    and    held    liis    interest   as   she   had 
known    she    could    and    she    had    sent    Essie    Ti.sdale 
sprawling  ridiculously  at  his  feet.     She  had  showTi 
Crowheart  how  she  could  look  when  she  tried— what 
she  eould  do  and  be  with  only  half  an  etTort.    In  other 
words,    she    had    proved    to    Van    Lennop    and    to 
Crowheart   that   she   was   a  success   as   a  woman   as 
well  as  a  doctor.     What  more  could  any  one  person 
ask?     The  road  to  the  end  looked  smooth  before  her. 
She  wanted  to  scream,  to  .shriek  aloud  in  exultation. 
Jler  cheeks  burned,  her  eyes  blazed  triumph.     She 
hail  the  feeling  that  it  was  the  climax  of  her  career, 
that  no  more  satisfying  ho.ir  could  come  to  her  unless 
perhaps  it  was  the  day  she  married  Ogden  Van  Len- 
nop.    And   she   owed   nothing,    she   thought   as   .she 
whirled  dizzily  in  Mr.  Terriberry 's  arms,  to  anyone  but 
herself.     Every  victory,  every  step  forward  since  she 
arrived   penniless   and   unknown    in    Crowheart   had 
been  due  to  her  brains  and  efforts.     She  raised  her 


20« 


THE  LADY  DOC 


chm  arrograntly.  She  had  never  been  thwarted  and 
the  person  was  not  born  who  could  defeat  her  ulti- 
niately  in  any  ambition!  Her  mental  elation  gave 
ner  a  feehng  akin  to  omnipotence. 

A  clicking  sound  in  Mr.  Teriberrys  throat  due  to 
au  meftectual  effort  to  moisten  his  lips  brought  the 
realisation  that  her  own  throat  an<i  mouth  were 
parched. 

''Let's  stop  and  hit  one  up,"  she  whispered  fever- 
ishly.    "T'm  dry  as  a  fish." 

Mr.  Terriberry  seemed  to  check  himself  in  mid- 
air. 

"I  kin  hardly  swaller." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  arte^som  and  she  fol- 
Jowc<l  swaying  a  little  both  from  the  dixzy  dance 
and  the  effects  of  previous  visits  to  the  pun^h  bowl 
Jhe  hour  was  late  and  the  remaining  guests  were 
rapidly  casting  as.de  the  strained  dignity  which  their 
clotaes  and  the  occasion  had  seemed  to  demand  Ob- 
serving that  Van  Lennop  had  made  his  adieux,  Dr 
Harpe  also  felt  a  sudden  freedom  from  restraint 

Mr.    Terril^rry   filled   a    glass   to   the   brim    and 
executed  a  notalle  bow  as  he  handed  it  to  her 

To  the  fairest  of  the  fair,"  said  Mr.  Terriberry 
gallantly,  protruding  his  upper  lip  over  the  ed^e  of 
his  glass  something  in  the  manner  of  a  horse  gatL^rin^ 
in  the  last  oat  in  his  box  fc^'i^trm^ 

.ri^."Zu;-'  ■'■"  ^"""  '"  "™''  '»*■""  -'J 

''To  my  Supreme  Moment!" 

Mr.  Terriberry,  who  had  closed  his  eves  while 
the  coohng  beverage  flowed  down  his  throJt,  opened 
them  al,^^ln.  ^ 

"Huh?" 


"HER  SUPREME  MOMENT 


203 


Again  she  swung  her  glass  above  her  head  and 
shrilled — 

"My  Supreme  Moment— drink  to  it  if  you're  a 
friend  of  mine!" 

"Frien'  of  yours?  Frien'  of  yours!  Wliy,  Doc, 
I'd  die  fer  you.  But  that's  all  same  OgoUalah  Sioux 
'bout  your  S'preme  Moment!  Many  of  'em,  Doc, 
many  of  'era,  and  here's  t'you!" 
They  drained  their  glasses  together. 
"Always  liked  you,  Doc.  Il'nest  t'God,  from  the 
first  minute  I  laid  eyes  on  you."  Mr.  Terriberry 
reached  for  her  fan  dangling  from  the  end  of  its 
chain  and  began  to  fan  her  with  tender  solicitude. 

"Come  on,  let's  have  another  drink;  I  don't  cut 
loose  often."     II  r  eyes  and  voice  were  reckless. 

"Me  and  you  don't  want  to  go  out  of  here  with  our 
ropes  draggin',"  protested  Mr.  Terriberry  in  feeble 
hesitation.  "Let's  go  out  on  the  porch  fer  a  minute 
an'  look  at  the  meller  moon." 

"]\reller  moon  noihin'!  Come  on,  don't  be  a 
piker."  She  was  ladling  punch  into  each  of  their 
glasses. 

"Ah-h-h!  Ain't  that  great  cough  mixture!"  Mr. 
Terriberiy  rolled  his  eyes  in  ecstasy  as  he  once  more 
saw  the  bottom  of  his  glass.  "Doc,  'bout  one  more  and 
me  and  you  couldn't  hh  the  groun'  with  our  hats." 
Mr.  Terriberry  speared  a  bit  of  pineapple  with  the 
long  nail  of  his  forefinger  and  added  ambiguouslv: 
"M'-    t  you." 

"Aw,  g'long!  Food  for  infants,  this— wish  I  had 
a  barrel  of  it." 

"Doc,  you  got  a  nawful  capac'ty."  Mr.  Terriberry 
looked  at  her  in  languishing  admiration.  "That's 
why  I  like  yci.    Honest  t'Ood  I  hate  to.  see  a  lady  ?o 


S04 


THE  LADY  DOC 


dvAlT  T  f  ^''  remen^bering  the  existonce  of  thai 
lady  Mr.  lerriberry  tiptoed  to  the  door  and  endeav 
ored  to  locate  her— "mv  wifp  "  i,  .•        ,     *^^"'^^^- 

fidential  whisper  "can't     ^t      '  T?""*;'^  ^"  '  ''''• 

th^  pathos  of'trf;  ^''"'^''^y^  ^'^^i"  quivered  as 
tnt  pathos  of  the  fact  syopt  over  him-"  Do.  Merta's 
no  sport."     Mr.   Terriberry  buried  his  face    u  hi 

"Aw    dry   up!     Take   another  an<'    for-et   it" 
rephed  h.s  unsympathetic  confidante  oroJv  ' 

-y'e'jT"  n'"^'  ^^'^'^  "P  ^^  ^"'^k  ch;erf nines., 
Le  s  do,  Doc.    Do  you  know  I  hate  water-iust 

ytrsrmy-^/^'''---^--vhat'nitd^ 

waA?raS:::^^^^^-^-^^--^^-^e^oor- 

"Dr.  Uarpe "' 

;;What  is  it?"    She  did  not  turn  around, 
the  s4oT"  """  "'  '"  *'"-■  ""•■">''^"-fe"-  .shot,  down 

''o;,t™L'n™."''''*''™-^^^='^««'''^- 

"FnVn^V  ''''  ':"f"-^^^^d  shortly,  "I']]  be  down  " 
Fnen   of  yours?"  inquired  Terriberry. 

the  ^"h      Look'   .Z^\''  ''''^  damned'hoboes  on 
ine   uitcfi.     Looks  like  he  nii^^ht   hqv^  fai.^ 

other  nighl  than  this."  '   ^^^''^  """^^ 

"Don't  blame  you  'tall,  Doc.    I  gotta  get  to  work 


"HER  SUPREME  MOMENT"         205 

and  fin'  Merta.    If  you  see  Merta "    Mr.  Terri- 

berry  suddenly  realized  that  he  was  talking  to  himself. 
As  Dr.  Harpe  ,.iade  her  way  to  the  cloak-room  she 
was  conscious  that  it  was  well  she  was  leaving.  The 
lights  were  blurring  rapidly,  the  dancers  in  the  ball- 
room were  unrecognizable  and  indistinct,  she  was 
sensible,  too,  of  the  increasing  thickness  of  her  tongue. 
Yet  more  than  ever  she  wanted  to  laugh  hysterically, 
to  scream,  to  boast  before  them  all  of  the  things  she 
had  done  and  of  those  she  meant  to  do.  Yes,  decid- 
cdly,  it  was  time  she  was  leaving,  her  saner  self  told 
her. 

She  fumbled  among  the  wraps  in  the  cloak-room 
untd  she  found  her  own,  then,  steadying  herself  by 
running  her  finger-tips  along  the  wall,  she  slipped 
from  the  hotel  without  being  observed. 

"Made  a  good  get-away  that  time,"  she  muttered. 

Her  lips  felt  stiff  and  dr>-  and  she  moistened  them 
frequently  as  she  stumbled  across  the  hummocks  of 
sagebrush  growing  on  the  vacant  lots  between  the 
hospital  and  the  hotel.  She  fell,  and  cursed  aloud  as 
she  felt  the  sting  of  cacti  spines  in  her  palm.  She 
sat  where  she  fell  and  tried  to  extract  them  by  the 
hght  of  the  moon.     Then  she  arose  and  stumbled  on. 

"Ood!  I'm  drunk— jus'  plain  drunk,"  she  .said 
thickly,  and  was  glad  that  there  would  be  no  one  but 
Koll  Beecroft  about. 

Nell  was  safe.  She  had  long  since  attended  to  that. 
They  shared  too  many  secrets  in  common  for  Nell  to 
squeal.  Xoll  was  not  easily  shocked.  She  lau.^ed 
foolishly  at  the  thought  of  Nell  being  shocked  "and 
wondered  what  could  do  it. 

Her  contract  with  Sxones  called  for  a  gradaate 
Durse— Dr.    Harpe    snorted— a    graduate    nurse    for 


i 


«06 


THE  LADY  DOC 


hoboes!  Noll  wa,  cheaper.  „ud  eve„  if  her  reputation 
«.  more  than  doubtful  she  wa,  bi.  and  husky-and 
they  understood  eaeh  other.    The  right  woman  in  the 

stood  for  harmony  and  seif.protection 

Oraduato  nurse  for  hoboes!"    She  muttered  it 
scornful  y  again.    '.Not  on  your  tintype-"  ' 

With  her teiX'"'  "^  ''"°'""  """^  "■"•  "  "f™^" 

of  t'he'S.'^"""   '-"  ""'"^•^"  '™"^"'^  -  *=  ^'are 
The  woman  looked  at  her  in  silenee. 
Hullo,  I  say!"    T.'      "^ak  slipped  from  her  bare 

shoulders  and  she  lung,         ,.ard  a  ohair. 

The  flush  on  her  faee  had  faded  and  her  eolor  was 

ghastly  a  gray,sh  white,  the  pallor  of  an  ana=mie  T 

"■any  short  hairs  on  her  forehead  and  tempTs  h,  n. 

stra,ght  m  hor  eyes,  the  filmy  fl„„„„,  J^     t^n 

n  L  rthL^f  *r'""^'  "■""" "  ^--^""'^-  ^^^ 

d^p-Tir,  ""'  *"  "'°  »'"«™  ™ffl-  ot  h"  silk 

hor'ann^Tmr"'  1  ""  "'""™  °^  '"^  •"'*™  -i* 

uLx   drins  akimbo — a  Iiufo  n«.-  i.r.r,^  j 

rough,  frontier  type.  °'^  '''^'''''  '^  ^ 

She  spoke  at  last. 
"Well,  you're  a  sight!" 

full7'T    '''''T'"^'    ^^'«"'''    she    chuckled    glee- 

arm  Jr  le'lfT"  fl  "•'*""  '^^"^  ^^  ^^at  feller's 
arm  or  we  11  be  celcbratin'  a  funeral  "  ihn 

answered  curtlv.     "lie's  hleedin    n  ''"""^^ 

"Tj.^f       t,\  ,  'Jleedm    like  a  stuck  ni"  " 

happen   "    si        T  '.r""""  '"''•  ""'''■    ^^'"ere'lit 
happen  ?      She  seated  herself  in  a  ehair  and  slid  untU 


"HER  SUPREME  MOMENT"  207 

her   head    rested    on   the    back,   her  sprawling   lees 
outstretched. 

"Guc  fight  at  the  dance  hall.  Look  here  "  she 
^ok  her  roughly  by  the  arm,  "I  tell  you  he's  bad  off. 
You  gotta  git  in  there  and  do  somethin'." 

"Shut  up!  Lcmrae  be!"  She  pulled  loose  from 
the  nurse's  grasp,  but  arose,  nevertheless,  and  stag- 
gered down  the  long  hallway  into  the  room  where  the 
new  patient  lay  moaning  softly  upon  the  narrow  iron 
cot. 

"Hullo,  Bill  Duncan!" 

His  moaning  ceased  and  he  said  faintly  in  relief— 
"Oh,   I'm  glad!     I  thought  you'd  never  come. 
Doc. 

"Say,"  her  voice  was  quarrelsome,  ''do  you  think 
1  ve  nothin'  to  do  but  wait  at  the  beck  and  call  of 
you  wops?" 

The  boy,  for  he  was  only  that,  looked  surprise 
and  resentment  at  the  epithet,  but  he  was  too  weak  to 
waste  his  strength  in  useless  words. 

She  raised  his  arm  bound  in  its  blood-soaked  rags 
roughly  and  he  groaned. 

"Keep  still,  you  calf!" 

He  shut  his  teeth  hard  and  the  sweat  of  agony 
stood  out  on  his  pallid  face  a.s  she  twisted  and  pulled 
and  probed  with  clumsy,  drunken  fingers 

"Nell!"  she  called  thickly. 

The  woman  was  watching  from  the  doorway. 
Get  the  hypodermic  and  TTl  give  h'm  a  shot 
0;  hop,  then  I'm  goin'  to  bed.    Lamb  can  look  after 
him  when  he  comes.     I'm  not  goin'  to  monkey  with 
hun  now." 

"But,  Doc,"  the  boy  protested,  'don't  leave  n,e 
like  this.     The  bullet's  in  there  yet.  and  a  piece  of 


208 


THE  LADY  DOC 


^ny    shirt.      The    boys    pullod    out    some,    buf    they 

couldn't  reach  the  rest      Ai„'f,  •    -  ^ 

fh,>  hnl..  •'^^e  rest.     A...  t  you  goin'  to  clean  out 

uie  iiolf  or  somcthin"'     T  m  «<..,.>+  .,p  i  i      . 
Do,.    f..r  f,  r.  '^'^  "^  hlood-poisoniu' 

Doc    lor  I  ve  seen  how  ,t  works, ' '  he  pleaded, 
ills  protest  angered  her. 

noiswi  ''y  '';"''  V''  "'^^^  ^°"^  ^^^k  of  blood- 
trouble  and  do  more  kickin'  than  all  my  private 
pa  .ents  put  together.  What  do  you  ZtZl 
do  lar  month  "-.she  sneered-"a  steeia,  ZJ'  A 
fnyho;:.^""^^''^-^^^^'^^-^--^^^^^^-rning 
She  shoved  up  the  slcH^ve  of  his  night  clothes  on 

th:^:::^:™i:;^r"^^^^^-^^^^ 

Ilis  colorless  lips  were  shut  in  a  straight  line  and 
m    lus    pam-striekon    eye.s    there    was    n.  t   .so     nuc 
anger  now  a.s  a  great  wonder.     Was  this  the  woman 
0    whose  acquaintance  he  had  been  proud,  by  vZe 
bow  or  recognition  he  always  had  felt  flattered    ths 

iiad  defended  again.st  the  occasional  criticism  of 
coarser  m.nds?  This  woman  with  her  reeking  breath 
and  an  expression  which  seen  through  a  mist  of  pa  n 
n^-le  her  tace  look  like  that  cf  Satan  himself  w^t 
po^ib  e  that  she  had  had  his  liking  and  resp!fetri 
was  still  wondenng  when  the  drowsiness  of  the  drui 
seized  h,m  and  he  slipped  away  into  sleep  ' 

Dr^  Harpe  gathered  his  clothes  from  the  foot  of 
the  bed  ns  she  pas.sed  out.  ^ 

^'1  Did  he  have  anything  on  him,  Xell?" 

"Thoy  m„st  have  cleaned  him  out  down  below  " 
She  ,erked  her  head  toward  the  danee  h^l    i  The 


HER  SUPllEMi:     lOMENT 


209 


turned  a  pocket  inside  out.  "A  dollar  watch  and  a 
jack-knife."  She  threw  them  both  contemptuously 
upon  the  kitchen  table.  "If  he  wakes  up  bellerin', 
shove  the  needle  into  him— vou  can  do  it  a.s  well  ai 
J  caTi.     Tin  goin'  to  bed." 

She  lunged  down  the  corridor  once  more  and  Nell 
Beecroft  stood  looking  after  with  a  curious  expres- 
sion of  derision  and  contempt  upon  her  hard  face. 
Dr.  Ilarpe  threw  herself  upon  the  bed  in  one  of 
the  private  rooms  and  soon  her  loud  breathing  told 
Nell  Beecroft  that  she  was  in  the  heavy  sleep  of 
drink.  The  nurse  opened  the  door  and  stood  by 
the  bedside  looking  down  upon  her  as  she  lay  dressed 
as  she  had  come  from  the  dance,  on  the  outside  of  the 
counterpane.  One  bare  arm  wa.s  thrown  over  her 
head,  the  other  was  hanging  limply  over  the  edge  of 
the  bed.  her  loose  hair  was  a  snarled  mass  upon  the 
pillow  and  her  open  mouth  gave  her  face  aa  empty, 
sodden  look  that  wa.s  bestial. 

"I  wonder  what  your  swell  friends  would  say 
to  you  now?"  the  woman  muttered,  staring  at  her 
through  narrowed  lids.  "Those  private  patients  that 
you're  always  bragging  swear  by  you?  What  would 
they  say  if  I  should  tell  'em  that  just  bein'  plain 
drunk    like    any    common    prostitute    was    the    least 

f "   '^he    checked    herself   and    glanced    into    the 

hallway.  "What  would  they  think  if  thev  knew  vou 
as  I  know  you— what  would  they  say  if  I  told  th-m 
«"i!y  half?  '  Her  mouth  dropped  in  a  contemptuous 
smile.  "They  wouldn't  believe  me— thev 'd  sav  I  lied 
ahout  their  'lady  doc'  "  '  " 

She  went  on  in  sneering  self-condemnation— 
"I'm  nothin'— just  nothin';  drug  up  among  the 

'''-'  -'---"iii         liO  raiaiu  Out    /'Cr lliiRi"     \'^li 

14 


mo 


THE  LADY  DOC 


Beeercffs  lips  curled  in  iuck'sf-ribahle  soorn.    "She's 
icomc  than  nothin',  (or  she's  had  her  ehanst!" 

There  was  no  eoh.r  in  the  East,  only  a  -rowinj? 
liKht  whieh  made  Dr.  llarpe  ic.k  ashen  an.l  ha-ard 
when  she  erawled  lr<.n,  the  bed  and  luoked  at  herself 
m  a  square  of  -lass  on  the  wall. 

"You  sure  don't  look  like  a  sprin-  chicken  in  the 
cold,  gray  dawn,  Ilarpe,"  sh-  -aid  aloud  a.s  she  made 
a  wry  taee  and  ran  out  her  lon^'ue.  "Bilious'  \ 
dose  of  nux  vomica  for  you.  That  mixe.l  stuff  does 
knock  a  fellow's  stomach  out  and  no  mistake.  Moses' 
I  look  tierce." 

Her  head  ached  dully,  her  mouth  and  throat  felt 
parched,  and  yet  withal  she  had  a  feelin-  of  content- 
ment the  reason  for  which  <nd  not  immediately  pene- 
trate her  dull  consciousness.  She  realized  only  that 
some  agreeable  happenint,-  had  left  her  with  a'sensa- 
tion  of  warmth  about  her  heart. 

As  she  fumbled  on  the  floor  for  hair-pins,  vawnin- 
sleepily  until  her  jaws  cracked,  she  wonder;d  what 
It  was.     She  stopped  in  the  midst  of  twi.sting  her 
k.o.se  hair  and  her  face  lighte.l  in  sud.len  recollection 
Ogden  Van  Lennop !     Ah,  that  was  it.     She  remem- 
bered now.     She  had  broken  down  his  prejudice-  she 
had  partially  won  him  over:  she  had  been  the  "hi^" 
of  the  evening:  further  con.pu.,.,  were  in  sight  and 
within  easy  reach  if  she  played  her  cards  ri^ht      \nd 
J-s-sie   Tisdale-her  long  upper  lip   .stretched   in   its 
mirthless  smile-she  would  not  have  her  feelings  this 
morning  for  a  goodly  sura. 

The  thought  of  Van  Lennop  accelerated  her  move- 
ments. She  must  get  back  to  the  hotel  before  Crow- 
heart^was  astir,  for  it  might  be  her  ill-luck  to  bump 
into  Van  Lennop  starting  on  one  of  his  early  mominff 


IIEU  SUPKEME  MOMENT 


211 


rides.     She  h;:  I  u»  .losire  that  ho  should  .s.v  h.T  in 
her  present  pli^'ht. 

The  <-l()seness  of  the  illy-ventihit-d  hospital,  with 
its  odors  of  disinfectants  and  sieknoss,  nauseated  her 
sii-htly  as  she  opened  the  tloor  and  stepped  into  the 
hallway.  She  frowned  at  the  delirious  mutterin^rs  of 
a  typhoid  patient  at  the  end  of  the  corridor,  for  it 
reminded  her  of  a  tiireatenini,'  epidemic  in  one  of  the 
eani{)s.  Tlie  sharper  mc.ans  of  iJiHy  Duncan,  wliose 
inflamed  and  swollen  arm  wa.s  wrinjrin^'  from  him 
ejaculations  of  pain,  recalled  vaguely  to  her  mind 
something  of  the  incident  of  the  nij-rh't  before. 

Hearing  her  step,  he  called  aloud  as  she  passed 
the  door — 

Won 't  somebody  give  me  a  drink  ?    Please,  please 
give  me  a  drink!     I'm  choked!" 

"Xell  will  be  up  directly,"  she  answereil  over  her 
shoulder.  There  was  no  time  to  lose,  for  the  day  was 
coming  fast. 

She  lifted  her  torn  and  trailing  flounce  and  pulled 
her  cloak  about  her  bare  shoulders  as  she  opened  the 
street  door.     The  air  felt  good  upon  her  hot  foreh.'ad 
and  she  breathed  deep  of  it.    The  East  was  pink  now. 
but  the  town  was  still  as  silent  as  the  grave  save  for 
the  snind  of  escaping  steam  from  the  early  morning 
tram.     Happening  to  glance  toward  the  station,  some" 
ti-  ng  in  the  appearance  of  a  man  carrying  a  suit- 
case across  the  cinders  attracted  her  at^tention   and 
caused  her  to  slacken  h"r  pace.     It  looked  like  0<-den 
Van  Lennop.     It  n-as  Ogden  Van  Lennop.     IIe\va.s 
i'-aving !    AVhM  did  it  mean  «    Her  air-castles  collapsed 
vvith  a  thud  which  left  her  limp. 

_^  She  kept  on  toward  the  hotel,  but  her  step  lagsed. 
vviiat  did  she  care  who  saw  her  now?     Surelv,  she 


m 


iil2 


THE  LADV  DOC 


roassured  hersdf,  ho  was  not  K-uving  for  good-like 
mis.     It  was  rcrfHinly  stranjLrc 

Enf.nnK  Ih.  hot,!  thn,uj,i  th.  unlookod  office  door 
she   tound   the   nijrht  lamp  still   burning  and   Terri 
iH-rry  was  nowhere  about.     That  was  curiou.s,  for  he 
va^^  always  up  when  any  of  hi.s  ^-uests  were  leavinL- 
on  the  early  train. 

w.,V'"    \'7'""^''"  '^""''^""   '""«^  J^ve   Inrn  .suadcn. 
What  could  be  the  explanation? 

There  was  a  letter  propped  ajrainst  the  lan.p  on  a 
table  beh.nd  the  office  desk  and,  a.s  .she  surmised,  it 
Mas  addressed  to  Mr.  Terribeny  in  Van  Lennop's 
handwntinfr.  Lookin,^  closer  she  saw  the  en,l  of  a 
second  envelope  Ix^hiud  the  first.     To  whom  could  he 

nr^  TT'^     ^"^  '"""'  ''''^''''  ^'-  "^--I^^  J^^'^1  the 
uno.s.ty  of  a  servant  and  it  now  prompted  her  to  walk 

behind  the  desk  and  gratify  it 

"Miss  Essie  Tisdale"  w^s  the  a^ldress  on  the  second 
envelope.  Instantly  her  face  chanj^ed  and  the  swift, 
jealous  ra^re  of  the  evening,  before  swept  over  hei^ 
aj^'ain. 

She  ground  her  teeth  together  a«  .she  regarded  the 
letter  with  malice  glittering  in  her  heavy  eves      111 

T^y'TT-  ^"^""'  '^^'"'  '^'  ^'"'^^  "I^«tart,  that  infer- 
Dal  Jittle  biscuit-shooter! 

Shorty,  the  cook,  was  rattling  the  kitchen  range 

She    istened  a  moment.     There  was  no  other  sound 

She  thn.st  the  letter  quickly  beneath  the  line  of  her 

<>w-cut  bod.ce  and  tiptoed  up  the  stairs  with  slinking 

feline  stealth.  ^' 


m 


XIX 

"Down  and  Out" 
Dr.  ITarpk  ripped  open  tlic  cuvolopc  addressod 
to  Kssio  Tisd.ilt'  and  devoured  its  contents  standing,' 
hy  the  window,  han'-shouldcn-d  in  the  dawn.  Lonj,' 
before  she  had  finished  readinj?  her  hand  shook  with 
excitement,  and  her  nose  looked  pinched  and  drawn 
about  the  nostrils.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  woman 
was  beinj;  dealt  a  stag^erine:  blow.  Until  the  moment 
she  had  not  herself  realized  how  stron^dy  she  had 
built  upon  the  outcome  of  this  self-constructed 
romance  of  hers. 

In  her  wildest  dreams  she  had  not  considered  Van 
Lennop's  attentions  to  Essie  Tisdale  serious  or,  in- 
deed, his  motives  good.  That  Ogdcn  Van  Lennop  had 
entertained  the  remotest  notion  of  asking  Essie  Tis- 
dale to  1)0  his  wife  was  furthest  from  her  thoughts. 
Yet  there  it  was  in  black  and  white,  staring  at  her 
in  words  which  burned  themselves  upon  her  brain, 
searing  the  deeper  because  she  learned  from  them  that 
her  own  dt^d  had  precipitated  the  crisis. 

"I  wa.sn't  sure  of  myself  until  last  night."  Vbji 
Lennop  wrote,  "but  that  creature's  disgraceful  act 
left  me  in  no  doubt.  If  I  had  been  sure  of  you, 
Essie  Tisdale,  I  would  have  put  my  arm  about  you 
then  and  there  and  told  that  braying  crowd  that  any 
indignity  offered  you  was  offered  to  my  future  wife. 
"But  I  wa.s  not  sure,  I  am  not  sure  now,  and  only 
business  of  the  utmost  urgency  could  take  me  away 
from  you  in  this  state  of  uncertainty.     If  you  want 

mo   to    pomp    ba*^^    Wnn'f    tr/MT    t^n-n^    *n^«     «     +.^1 , A„ll.' 

SIS 


214 


'I'm:  LADV    DOC 


nio  s<.  fo  tl,<.  n.i,ln.,s,s  I  «,„  .jvin^'  hdow?  Just  a  wonl 
W  lis.!...!.,  to  l.t  nu-  know  (hat  you  ,..r..  .,  liftlJ 
l.it.  ll>.(   vour  sweet  IVierulshi,)  holds  sonu-th„„'  n.on- 
f.'rn.-(fu,nj.,stfri..„,lship'.     I  sh.ll  luunit  the  umcc 
uiita  I  h.'.-ir  from  y.„i,  so  lose  no  time." 
Further  on  she  read  : 

"I  I«v..  you  n.itrhtily.  Essie  Tis.hile.  nnd   I  hnv(^ 
not  el.,se.|  n,y  eyes  for  making,'  plans  for  vo,,  an,l  me 
It   isqu.te  the  m<.st  clelJrioMs  happiness  "l  have  ever 
l^;".wn.   I  lonf,  to  take  you  away  fro,,,  (■rowl„..„.t  an<l 
place  you    in   the  environment  in   whieh  vo,,   ri-htlv 
Mouis,  for.  while  we  know  nothing-  of  vour  parent- 
a,'o,  I  u.,uM  stake  my  life  that  in  it  you  have  no  eauso 
for  shame.     J  am  fille.l  with  all  a  lover's  ea^r,Tnes.s  to 
^'ive   to  heap  uixm  yo,.  the  thin-.-s  whieh  womm  like- 
to  share  w.th  you  my  possessions  an.l  my  pleasures 
Hut  ,n  the  n.idst  of  my  eastle  hnil.linir  eomes  the 
c-hm.n^    thou.dit    that    I    am    takini,   evervthin-'    for 

.rant..d  and  the  fear  that  HK.ve  been  pn.sumptu;.  in 
i|nsta...n,  ;  ...r  d-ar,  loyal  eon.ra.leship  ,       something 

more  makes  me   fairly  tr.-n.ble.     I  am  very  humbl" 
Ks-sio  1  ,s,lale,  when  1  think  <.f  you.  hut  1  an,  ..oin--  to 

Wl.eve  you  will  say  '^,,s.-  until  you  have  said  'J'  '' 

I  r.  Ilarpe  erumpled  the  letter  and  hurled  it  into 

the   tarthermost  eorner  of  the   room,  half  sick  with 

a  eehn.  of  helplessne.,  of  passionate  regret  and  d!' 
spair.  She  realized  to  the  fullest  what  she  wa.s  losing 
or,  as  she  phra.sec!  it  to  he,-self.  what  was  "slipping 
through  her  fin.ers."  And  this  was  to  he  the  futur^ 
t  the  ..,rl  .1,om  ,t  seemed  to  her  she  hated  above 
nil  others  and  all  else  in  the  world!  The  thou-^ht 
vas  n.adden,n...  She  strode  to  and  fro.  kiekin.^  her 
torn  flounee  and  trailing'  skirt,  out  of  the  wav^vith 
savage  resentment.     Van  Lennop's  letter  temporarily 


"DOWN'  ANT)  Of  FT" 


21 


piin.tiin.l  luT  concfit.  I'hnjjriti  and  iiinrtilication  si<h\- 
iiii;  t..  h.r  f.'cliiit,'  t\u'  aiipuisli  of  that  had  half  hour. 
"That  crcafiir.''"  h..-  wius  calliiif;  h-r  whil.j  iti  h.r 
ri.iiculoiis  .scll'-coiiiphK.'iicy  she  was  .Iririkiti^'  to  her 
Siiprcm.'  .M()iiM>rit.  Oh,  it  \v;i.s  iinbcaruhh! !  She  cuv- 
i'P.mI  h.r  ;•.  ,I,l,.„iii^,'  face  with  !;(.fh  hands. 

\Vh»-ri  she  raised  it  at  last  there  was  a  liirht  in  hir 
eyes,  ii.w  jMirpuse  in  her  face.  Her  inonu'iit  of  weak- 
ness and  defeat  had  passed.  She  would  niak.'  j;o,)d 
her  beast  tliat  that  person  was  not  yet  Ix.rn  who  could 
ultimately  defeat  her.  She  woidd  not  ,i,'o  so  far  a.s 
to  .say  that  in  the  em!  she  would  marry  Van  Lonnop 
nor  wouUl  she  admit  that  it  was  inipo.ssible,  but  .she 
swore  that  whatever  els.>  mi^'ht  happen,  Ls,sio  Tisdale 
shoidd  never  be  his  wife.  In  eyery  elash  between 
herself  and  this  ■:irl  she  had  won,  .so  why  not  a^ain? 
Thi'iv  must  bt — then;  wa.s— .some  way  to  prevent  it! 

She  had  no  plan  in  mind  as  yet,  but  somethinjf 
would  su;,'f,'est  itself,  she  knew,  for  her  crafty  resouretZ 
♦"Mlnes-s  had  helped  her  since  her  childhood  in  many  a 
tij^'ht  place,  from  seemingly  hopeless  situations.  She 
picked  up  the  erumpled  lett^'r  and  seatinj?  herself  by 
the  window  smoothed  the  sheets  upon  her  knee. 

She  read  it  throu.i^di  again,  calmly,  critieally  this 
time,  lingering  over  the  paragraph  which  hinted  at 
the  thmgs  he  had  to  otier  the  woman  who  oecame  his 
wife. 

"Diamonds  and  good  clothes  that  mean.s.  a  box 
at  the  Opera,  fine  honses  and  a  limousine.  The  trol- 
lop!  the !"     The  epithet  was  the  most  offensive 

that  she  knew.  "lie  knows  she  would  like  such 
things,"  she  reason- 

Her  mind  was  u>  .king  in  a  circuitous  way  toward 

a    definite    coal    whlVh    aha    V,arvn}e   U„,l    „.,*     --    -._i. 

■'-  "— "i  ii"-/t  Oo  j L'v  per- 


216 


THE  LADY  DOC 


ceivcd,  but  when  she  did  soe  it,  it  came  with  the  flash 
of  inspiration.  She  all  but  bounded  to  her  feet  and 
be^'an  to  pace  the  floor  in  the  quick  strides  of  mental 
excitement.  A  jjlan  suddenly  outlined  it.self  before 
her  with  the  cleaniess  of  a  written  te.xt.  Her  crush- 
ing' disappointment  was  almost  fnrirotten  in  the  keen 
joy  of  work'infr  out  the  details  of  her  plot.  If  only 
she  could  influence  certain  minds— could  manipulate 
conditions. 

"I  can  I  I  irill!"  She  einpha-sized  her  determina- 
tion with  clenched  fist. 

After  a  luusty  toilette  she  .'purveyed  herself  in  the 
plass  with  satisfaction.  The  jaded  look  wa.s  fast 
fadinp-  under  the  stimulus  of  the  con,i,'enial  work  ahead 
of  her  and  little  trace  of  her  intemperate  indul^'ence 
of  the  night  remained. 

"You're  .standin^r  up  well  under  the  jolt,  Harpe," 
she  commented.    "That  letter  was  sure  a  body  blow." 

She  .seated  herself  at  the  breakfast  table  and  in 
her  habitual  attitud"  of  slouchin.tr  nonchalance  sat 
with  half-lowered  lids  watchin-r  Essie  Tisdale  as  she 
moved  about  the  dinin<ir-room.  There  was  something,' 
in  ber  crouehin-  pes-,  the  cruel  eagerness  of  her  eyes, 
Avhich  sucr^'ested  a  bird  of  prey,  but  it  was  not  until 
they  were  alone  that  she  asked  carelessly — 

'flow's  the  hand,  Ess?" 

The  girl  gave  no  sign  of  having  heard. 

"That  was  rather  a  bad  fall  you  got." 

Essie  turned  upon  her  with  blazing  eyes. 

"Not  so  bad  as  yon  intended." 

Dr.  Harpe  laughed  softly  and  asked  with  a  mock- 
ing  pretence  of  surpris,' — 

"Why.  what  do  yon  mean?" 

"You  know  perfectly  well  that  I  know  you  tripped 


"DOWN  AND  OUT" 


«17 


mo.  You  need  rn)t  pretend  with  mo.  Don't  you 
think  I  know  by  this  time  that  you  would  po  to  any 
len^'th  to  injure  me— iu  any  way— that  you  already 
have  done  so?" 

"You  flatter  me;  you  overestimate  my  power." 

"Not  at  all.  How  cjin  I  when  I  see  the  evidence 
of  it  every  day  ?  You  have  left  me  practically  with- 
out a  friend;  if  that  flatters  you.  enjoy  it  to  the 
Utmost."    The  girl's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Not  without  unc,"  she  sneered  significantly; 
"surely  you  don't  mean  that?'' 

The  peach-blow  color  rose  in  the  girl's  cheeks. 

"No,"  she  answered  with  a  touch  of  defiance, 
"not  without  one,  or  two  when  it  comes  to  that." 

"And  who  is-— the  other?'' 

"I  can  count  on  Mrs.  Terriberry.  p:ven  you  have 
no  influence  with  her,  Dr.  Harpe.'' 

"You  are  very  sure  of  your  two  friends."  The 
woman  slouching  over  the  table  looked  more  than  ever 
like  a  bird  of  prey. 

"Very  sure,"  Essie  Tisdale  answered,  again  in 
proud  defiance. 

"Then  of  course  you  know  that  Van  Lennop  left 
Crowheart  this  morning?"  She  drawled  the  words 
in  cruel  enjoyment  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  girl's 
face. 

Iler  eyes  shone  malevolently  as  she  saw  i:  blanch. 

"Didn't  he  tell  you  he  was  going?     I'm  amazed." 

The  girl  stood  in  stunned  silence. 

"Yes  a  telegram  sent  him  to  ATexico  to  look  after 
some  important  interests  there.  Quite  imexpected. 
He  left  a  letter  for  me  saying  good-by  and  regretting 
that  he  would  not  be  back.  So  you  see.  my  dear 
Essie,  that  when  it  comes  to  the  actual  count  your 


S18 


THE  LADY  DOC 


friends  have  simmered  down  to  one."  It  wa.s  not 
enough  that  she  should  crush  her,  she  wanted  somehow 
to  wring  fiora  her  a  ery  oi'  pain. 

"You  made  a  fool  of  yourself  over  him.  Ess !  The 
whole  town  luu^died  at  you.  \ou  should  have  known 
that  a  mp..  like  Van  Lennop,  of  his  position,  doesn't 
take  a  biscuit-shooter  seriously.  Green  as  you  are  you 
should  have  known  that.  You've  ruined  yourself  in 
Crowheart.  dotrrriu'  his  footsteps  every  time  he 
turned  and  all  that  sort  of  thing;  he  simply  couldn't 
shake  you.  You're  done  for  here;  you're  down  and 
out  and  you  mi^dit  as  well  (juit  the  liat.  It's  the  best 
thinfr  you  can  do,  or  marry  the  iirst  inau  that  aska 
you  and  settle  down." 

Essie  Tisdale  looked  at  her,  speechless  with  pain 
and  shock.  She  had  no  reply;  in  the  face  of  such 
a  leave-taking  there  seemed  nothing  for  her  to  say. 
Every  taunt  was  like  a  stab  in  her  aching  heart  be- 
cause she  felt  they  must  be  true.  It  was  true,  else 
he  would  not  have  left  her  without  a  word.  What 
did  it  all  mean?  IIow  could  such  sincerity  be  false! 
Was  no  one  true  in  all  the  world?  Oh,  the  sickening 
miserj'  of  it  all— of  life! 

She  turned  away  and  left  the  dining-room,  sway- 
ing a  little  as  she  wallced. 

Dr.  Ilrrpe  returned  to  h.^r  room  with  a  smirk  of 
deep  -satisfaction  upon  her  face. 

"I  soaked  the  knife  home  that  time,"  she  mur- 
mured, pinning  on  her  stitr-brimmed  Stetson  before 
the  mirror,  but,  mingled  with  h-r  gratification  was 
a  slight  feeling  of  uneasiness  because  she  had  gone 
farther  than  she  had  intended  in  mentioning  Van 
Lennop 's  letter  and  boasting  that  it  had  been  left 
for  her. 


♦  f 


DOWN  AND  OUT" 


£19 


The  pair  of  horses  which  she  and  Lamb  owned  in 
couimon  was  at  the  staljle  already  harnessed  for  their 
semi-weekly  trip  to  the  eamps  along  the  Diteh,  but 
Dr.  Ilarpe  turned  their  heads  la  the  opposite  direc- 
tion and  by  noon  had  reached  the  sheep-camp  of  old 
Edouard  Dubois. 

She  hitched  her  horses  to  the  sheariu(r-pcn  and 
opened  the  unlocked  door  of  the  cabin.  A  pan  of 
freshly-made  biscuit  and  a  table  covered  with  un- 
washed breakfast  dishes  told  her  that  the  cabin  was 
being  occupied,  so  she  reasoned  that  it  was  safer  to 
wait  until  some  one  returned  than  to  search  the  hill.s 
for  Dubois. 

A  barking  sheep-dog  told  her  of  some  one's 
approach,  and  in  relief  she  went  out  to  meet  him,  for 
she  was  restless  and  impatient  of  any  delay.  But 
instead  of  the  lumbering  old  French  Canadian  she 
saw  the  Dago  Duke  coming  leisurely  fr  n  a  near-by 
coulee,  pictures(iue  in  the  unpicturesque  garb  of  a 
sheep-herder. 

If  there  was  no  welcoming  smile  upon  her  face  the 
Dago  Duke  was  the  last  person  to  be  embarrassed  by 
the  omission. 

Ah,  '  Angels  unawares '  and  so  forth. "  The  Dago 
Duke  swept  his  hat  from  his  head  in  a  low  bow.  "A 
rare  pleasure,  Doctor,  to  return  and  find  a  lady " 

She  flushed  at  the  mocking  emphasis. 

"Cut  that  out;  any  fool  can  be  sarcastic." 

"You  surprise  and  pain  me.  If  it  is  sarcasm  to 
refer  to  you  as  a  lady " 

"Where's  Dubois?" 

lie  waved  his  hand  toward  the  coulee  and  she 
■walked  away. 

The  Dago  Duke  looked  after  her  with  an  expres- 


oo 


so 


Tj      ladv  doc 


sion   of  amused   speculation    i„    his   handsome  eyes 
What  devdtry  was  she  up  to  now  ? 

"-\ddio,  mia  bella  Xapoli,"  h,>  whistled.  "Addi.,' 
addio!"  What  difference  did  it  make  so  long  a.s  she 
conhned  her  activities  to  Dubois  ?_since  he  had  no 
more  liking  for  one  than  the  other. 

The  Dacro  Duke  had  applied  to  Dubois  for  work 
as  a  sheep-herder  and  got  it. 

After  the  memorable  midnight  session  with  pink 
l.^.ards  and  the  Gila  monster,  the  Dago  Duke  applied 
for  work  as  a  sheep-herder  and  got  it,  chiefly  because 
of  hiN  indifference  to  the  question  of  wages. 

"I  want  to  get  away  from  the  gild<>d  palaces  of 
vice  and  my  solicitous  friends;  I  want  to  lead  the 
simple,  virtuous  life  of  a  sheep-herder  until  my 
system  recovers  from  a  certain  .shock,"  explained  the 
applicant  glibly,  "and  something  within  me  tells  me 
that  you  are  not  the  man  to  refuse  a  job  to  a  youth 
tilled  with  such  a  worthy  ambition." 

Dubois   grinned   understandingly   and   gave   him 
work  at  half  a  sheep-herder's  usual  pay. 

matever  the  nature  of  Dr.  Ilarpe's  business  with 
his  employer,  the  interview  appeared  t.>  have  been 
eminently  satisfactory'  to  them  both,  for  she  was  .smil- 
'iig  broadly,  while  Dubois  seemed  not  only  excited  but 
elated  when  they  returned  together. 

He  looked  after  her  buggj^  a.s  she  drove  away  and 
chuckled — 

"Ha— she  brings  me  good  new.s— zat  woman!" 

While  the  Dago  Duke  was  warming  up  the  fried 

potatoes  and  bacon,  which  remained  from  breakfast 

ov.  r  the  rusty  camp-stove.  Dubois  wa,s  .living  under 

his  bunk  for  a  box  from  which  he  produced  a  yellowed 


"  DOWN  AND  OUT  » 


221 


shirt  and  collar,  together  with  a  suit  of  black  clothes, 
nearly  new. 

''Per  Iddio!  'Tis  the  Day  of  Judgment  and 
you've  gotten  inside  information!"  ieered  thp  Dairo 
Duke. 

Dubois  showed  his  vellowed  teeth. 

"Mais  oui,  'eet  is  ze  Resurrection." 

"I  swear,  you  look  like  Napoleon,  Dubois!"  gibed 
the  Dago  Duke,  when  he  was  fully  arrayed. 

"Why  not?"  The  Frenchman's  face  wore  a 
complacent  smirk.  "Ze  Little  Corporal,  he  married  a 
queen." 

The  frying-pan  of  fried  potatoes  all  but  dropped 
from  the  Dago  Duke's  hand,  while  his  employer  en- 
joyed to  the  utmost  the  amazement  upon  his  face 

"The  lady  doc?" 

Dubois  threw  up  both  hands  in  vehement  protest. 
"\on,  non!    Mon  Dieu,  non,  non!" 

The  Dago  Duke  shrugged  his  shoulders  imper- 
tinently. 

"You  aim  higher,  perhaps?" 
.Alais  certes. ' '  he  leered.    ' '  Old  Dubois  has  thirty 
thousand  sheep." 

"To  exchange  for " 

"A  ({ueen,  ze  belle  of  Crowheart— Mees  Essie 
Teesdale!" 

The  Dago  Duke  stared  and  continued  to  rec^ard  his 
employer  fixedly.  Essie  Tisdale !  Had  the  solitude 
affected  the  old  man's  mind  at  last?  Was  he  crazy? 
How  else  account  for  the  preposterous  suggestion  his 
colos>sal  egotism?  Why,  Essie  Tisdale,  even  to  the 
Dago  Duke's  critical  eye,  was  like  a  delicately  tinted 
praine  ro.se,  while  old  Dubni.s  with  his  iron-gray  hair 


222 


THE   LADY  DOC 


on.irclod  nock,  his  swarthy,  ohstinato,  hrutal  f.oo 
was  seventy,  a  remarkable  sevent^^  ,  is  re  hut 
seventy  and  far  fron.  preposses,  u.g  U^^  ^ 
absurd  It  n,ust  be  one  of  th.  lady^loe'.  j^ra  t.  al 
jokes-a  was  sumciently  indelieate/he  told  h.Wlf 
A  any  ra.o  he  would  soou  see  Dubois  returnin^^  t- 
ia  on  tn.n.  h.  ...urtin,  expedhn.n,  and  the  sijht  he 
felt,  was  one  he  should  relish. 

•  r/J'r''^''''''  '"''  co'^^^i-atulations  until  vou  come  " 
saKi  the  Da.o  Duke  as  he  pioko.l  up  his  sheep!^  X's 
start  and  returned  to  his  band  of  sheep. 

"You    will    have    ze    opportunity,    my    frien'" 
grinned  Dubois  confidently.  ^  ' 

Dr.  Ilarpe  had  advised— 

"Give  her  a  night  to  ery  her  eyes  out.    Twenty 
four  hours  will  put  a  erimp  in  her  con ra.;     Le    /he 
faet  that  she',  iilted  soak  in.    Give  her  time' to  real 
^hat  she  s  up  against  in  Crowheart  " 

tionleTr  '•'  'rVr'  ''''''  ''  ^^^^  -^'^  humilt 
tion  left  Ess.e  Tisdale  with  weakened  courage  men- 
tally and  physically  spent. 

Back  of  everything,  above  all  else  loomed  in  black 
and  gigantic  proportions  the  fact  that  Van  Lcnnot 
had  gone  away  forever  without  a  word  to  her  that  h^ 

than  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  seemed  to  avoid.    " 
<rf.nti         ^^^^^^^^'-^  of  the  night  her  tired  brain  con- 
stantly recalled  the  things  which  he  had  said  that 
had  made  her  glow  with  happiness  at  the  time    b, 
which  she  knew  now  were  only  the  pleasant,  idle  wo  d 

hdls.     Dr.  Harpe  was  right  when  she  had  told  her 
that  m  her  ignorance  of  the  world  and  its  men  she  h^d 


DOWN  AND  OUT" 


223 


misundorstood  the  kindness  Van  Lcnnop  would  have 
shown  to  any  person  in  her  position. 

"But  he  didn't  show  it  to  her— he  didn't  show  it 
to  anyone  else  bat  me!"  she  wouhl  whisper  in  a  fierce 
joy,  which  was  short-lived,  for,  instantly,  the  crushing 
remembrance  of  his  leave-taking  confronted  her. 

Her  face  burned  in  the  darkness  when  she  remem- 
bered that  Dr.  Ilarpe  had  taunted  her  with  having 
displayed  her  love  to  all  the  town.  She  no  longer 
made  any  attempt  to  conceal  it  from  herself,  the  sure 
knowledge  had  come  with  Van  Lennop's  departure, 
and  she  whispered  it  aloud  in  the  darkness  in  glorious 
defiance,  but  the  mood  as  quickly  passed  and  her 
face  flamed  scarlet  at  the  thought  that  she  had  unwit- 
tingly showed  her  precious  secret  to  the  unfriendly 
and  curious. 

She  crept  from  bed  and  sat  on  the  floor,  with  her 
folded  arms  upon  the  window-sill,  finding  the  night 
air  good  upon  her  hot  face.  She  felt  weak,  the  weak- 
ness of  black  respair,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that  her 
faith  in  human  nature  had  received  its  final  shock. 
If  only  there  was  some  one  upon  whose  shoulder  she 
couid  lay  her  head  she  imagined  that  it  might  not  be 
half  so  hard.  There  was  :\Irs.  Terriberry,  but  after 
what  had  happened  could  she  be  sure  even  of  Mrs. 
Terriberry?  Could  any  inconsequential  person  like 
herself  be  sure  of  anybody  if  it  conflicted  with  their 
interests?  It  seemed  not.  She  shrank  from  voicing 
the  thought,  but  the  truth  was  she  dared  not  put  Mrs. 
Terriberry 's  friendship  to  any  test. 

"The  best  way  to  have  friends,"  she  whispered 
Utterly  with  a  lump  in  her  aching  throat,  "is  not  to 
need  them." 

iDii-y:   uri;i4ucu   iiic    Oc^luiiiu^    ul    iiuOliier   tiay,    bul 


821 


THE   LAUV  UOU 


Uay  b„    ,h,.  day  after  that  =  .,,1  all  the  innm,, en  1 1 . 
d  cry  ,l„y»  ahead  „f  her.    Finally  she  orep,  .,l„v™  t 

1  h..  Ion;..  .sha,l„WH  „r  |l,e  aft,..no„„ •,  ,„„  ,.,..  "  „ 
Hckyard    of   tho    Terriberry    „„,.„    ,,:      K  ,        ' 
c^o,v„  ,„  the  doorway  to  rest  before  her  e^i,," 
»-ork  besa,,.     The  girls  sad  faee  reste,!  i„    h^,  h, 

the  fact  that  she  was  e.ther  ,-„i„g  to  or  reli.rni,,.,  fr„„, 
a  soe  al  fu„et,„„.  Jfe.  Jaekso,,-^  raineoat  was  "as"" 
•Signal  of  social  activity. 

she        takn      ,t,       sujr.osto.l     .Mrs.     Tutts     am.ahh 
Gittin     he  m.tten  is  some  of  a  pill  to  swaller     Don't 
you  speak  to  her,  Mis'  Jackson?"  ' 

:^rrs.  Jackson  -lanced  furtively  over  her  shonlrlpr 

.Te'prr ''" '''- «-™'» "•«'  -"  --"' »: 

"If  I  come  upon  hor  face  to  face   but  T  ,?nn'f 
out  of  my  \vav   itali  "     i         ,7  V'  ^^"  '^  ^o 

imitation  of  Ahi    ?       '  -    '^'   "'^^^'^   ^"    unconscious 

spec  <-0n  n'""  •  "*^"-^-"-'^^'^»"i-'i  J-^^'uor  of 
speccn  One  rally  can't  afford  to  after  her  bein' 
so  indiscreet  and  all."  ^^^^ 

;;Rotten,  I  says"  dodared  Mrs.  Tutts  torsely 
fehe  looks  kuula  pale  around  the  rills  sSveil  .= 
I  can  see  from  here,"  .w,i„ed  Mrs     T,  L  ?  • 

eriticallv  n  .  fV  .  I    V  'iackson,  starini; 

ont  ca  ly  as  they  passed  along.    They  tittered  audibly 
I    ell  you  what,  Mrs.  Tutts,  Kssio  ou.ht  to  ^et  fo 
)vork  and  marry  some  man  what 'II  put  her  ri4t'uo 
in  ^iociety  where  Alva  put  me. "  °      ^ 


DOWN  AND  OUT  " 


8!25 


A  bitirif;  coniriK'nt  which  it  caused  >rrs.  Tutts  real 
.suffering'  to  suppri'.ss  was  upon  the  tip  of  that  lady's 
tongue,  but  it  was  j:ra«lually  hcirii,'  borne  in  upon 
her  that  the  first  families  were  not  friven  to  actual 
hand-to-hand  contliets,  so  she  checked  it  and  inquired 
siirnificiiiitly  instead — 

"J3ut  could  he,  after  ridin'  over  the  country  t'hout 
no  chaperon  and  all  ?" 

Mrs.  Tutts  had  only  recently  foxind  out  about 
chaperons  and  their  function,  but,  since  she  had  she 
insisted  upon  them  fiercely,  and  Mrs.  Jackson  was 
finally  forced  to  admit  that  this  violation  of  the  con- 
ventions was  indeed  hard  to  overlook. 

Essie  Tisdale  was  too  unhappy  either  to  observe 
the  pas-sinfr  of  the  women  or  their  failure  to  recojrnize 
her.  Ill  the  presence  of  this  new,  real  pjrief  their 
friendliness  or  lack  of  it  seemed  a  small  affair.  The 
only  thin<r  which  mattered  was  Offden  Van  Lcnnop's 
groincr.  The  sun,  for  her,  had  ijone  down  and  with  the 
inexperience  of  youth  she  did  not  believe  it  ever  would 
rise  aj,'ain. 

The  uirl  sat  motionless,  her  chin  still  resting?  in  her 
palm,  until  a  tremulous  voice  behind  her  spoke  her 
name. 

"Essie." 

She  turned  to  see  ]\Irs.  Terriberry,  buttoned  into 
her  steel-colored  liodice  and  obviously  flustered. 

"Yes?"    There  was  a  trace  of  wonder  in  her  voice. 

At  the  sight  of  the  pale  face  the  <rirl  upturned  to 
her,  JTrs.  Terriberry  "s  courajre  nearly  failed  her  in 
the  task  to  which  she  had  nerved  herself. 

"Essie,"   she    faltered,    twistin?   her    rintrs    ner- 
vously, finally  blurting  out,  "I'm  afraid  you'll  have 
to  go,  Essie." 
15 


ftue 


Tin:   LADV   DOC 


The  girl  started  violoritly. 

"(io?"  she  ga.s[)i(l.     "(Jo?" 

Mrs.  'IVrriberry  n-.l.lc.l,  n-liovod  that  it  was  out 
^"^;;»'>-     ^Vhy?"     It  s.v„,..ci  too  incredible  to 
believe.     1  lus  wa^  the  very  last  thin.-  she  had  exiK-et.-d 
ov  IhouK'ht  01,  ' 

Mrs     Terriberry   avoided   her   eyes;    it   was   ev.., 
har,|..p  than  sh.  had  antieipaled.    Why  ha.ln  "t  she  let 
Hank     fernberry  U\\  her  himself!    Mrs.  Terriberrv 
was  one  of  that  nnnH-rous  .-lass  whose  naturally  kind 
hearts  are  ever  warrin,^  with  their  ^    ,„p  of  e^ution. 
She  was  sorry  now  that  she  had  been  so  impulsive 
;n  telhn.  hun  all  that  Dr.  Ilarpe  had  whispered  over 
the  af  ernoon  tea  at  Mrs.   SynuVs  now  fashionable 
Thursday 'At  Home."    It  was  the  first  of  the  eovete,! 
cards  vvh.eh  Mrs.    Ternberry  had   received  and    Dr 

fZZ  -r"  '"  •''^'■"'''^'  ^""^^y  '^'  information 
that  the  invitation  was  due  to  her,  and  Mrs.  Terriberrv 
was  eorresp„xiuinj,'ly  {rratefiil. 

''You  can't  afford  to  keep  her;  you  simply  can't 
afford  .t,  Mrs.  Terriberry,"  Dr.  Ilarpe  had  whispered 
earnestly  in  a  confidential  corner. 

T  7-f"V'  -K^'''^  protested   in  feeble  loyalty,  "but 
1  like  hssie. 

"Of  course  you  do,"  Dr.  Ilarpe  had  ajrreed  ma-- 
nanimousy:  ^<.o  do  I.  she's  a  really  beautiful "iH 
but  you  know  how  it  is  in  a  small  town  and  f  am 

LarlTor  her  -  '  ^''"'  '""'^  ^""'^  ^^'^  •'^'"  ''°  '*  "^^^'^  ^o 

.P.?  '"'^'^"  '*,  ^!l'f  '^  *"™''"^'  ^'^  ""t  .lust  when  she 
needs  a  fnend,"  Mrs.  Terriberry  had  replied  with 
some  decision,  and  Dr.  Harpe's  face  had  hardened 
shfrhtly  at  the  answer. 

'It's  your  o;vn   affair,  naturally,"  she  had  re- 


<  < 


"DOWN  AND  OFT" 


227 


turned  indifrcrcntly,  "hut  I'll  liav.-  to  find  accomo- 
dations clscwhen".  If  liviri<,'  in  the  same  house  would 
injure  nic  professioruiily,  merely  a  hoarder,  you  ean 
^'ucss  what  it  will  do  to  you  in  a  business  way,  and." 
she  had  added  si-jmificantly,  "socially." 

Mrs.  Terriherry  had  looked  startled.  After  han;,'- 
\n<:  to  the  frintre  until  .she  wa.s  all  hut  exhausted,  it 
wjus  snudl  wonder  that  she  had  no  desire  to  again  <,'o 
throu>,'h  the  harrowin-,'  experience  of  overcominj? 
►Society's  objections  to  a  hotelkceper's  wife. 

"Certaiidy  I  don't  blame  you  for  liant,'in<r  on  to 
her  as  lonj?  as  you  ean,"  Dr.  llarpe  had  ad<led,  "and 
of  course  you  would  be  the  last  ti»  hear  all  the  gos.sii) 
that  there  is  about  hep.  Hut,  on  the  wiiole,  isn't 
it  rath'T  a  hi^di  i)rict.'  to  pay  for -well,  for  a  biscuit- 
shoot.n-'s  friendship?  Such  people  really  don't  count, 
you  know." 

]\Irs.  Terriberrj'  who  had  once  shot  biscuits  in  a 
"Harvey's  lOatin^'  House"  murmured  meekly— 

"Of  course  not."  But  instantly  a.shamed  of  her 
weak  disloyalty  she  had  declared  with  a  show  of 
spirit,  "However,  unless  Hank  says  she  must  yo  she 
can  stay,  for  Essie  has  come  pretty  clos4i  to  bein'  like 
my  own  f;irl  to  me." 

Dr.  Harpe  had  been  satisfied  to  ht  it  rest  at  that, 
for  she  felt  sure  enough  of  Terriherry 's  answer. 

"He  needs  my  money,  but  if  more  pressure  is 
necessary,"— sh(!  sniggered  at  the  recollection  of  Mr. 
Terriherry 's  sentimental  leanings— "I  can  spend  an 
hour  with  him  in  the  light  of  the  'meller  moon.'  " 

Again  Dr.  Harp^e  was  right.  Mr.  Terriherry 
needed  the  money,  also  his  fears  took  instant  alarm  at 
the  thought  of  losing  so  popular  and  influential  a 
guest,  cne,  who,  as  he  told  xMrs.  Terriberrj-  emphati- 


SS8 


Tin:    LADY    Due 


oally.  could  <].,  lm„  .,  ruAv.r  „■  \umu.  Tl...  ,u.t„fll 
ihsuu^nl  of  flu.  .,rl  who  l.a.l  ,t<.u„  to  wo,n„„ho<.,I 
uudt-r  his  cy.'s  ho  wis.ly  l.-ft  f,,  his  wWo. 

The  Kirl  stn,,,!  „,,  „„w,  u  sl.-nd.T,  s\v;.vin-  fi-Mirc- 
white,  desolate-,  with  ui.Iirfd  arms  otitstretche.L  she 
looked  like  i>  storm-whipped  tlower. 

"Oh,  what  shall  I  d(..'     Whor..  shall  T  po!" 

The  low,   bro|<,.n-h..artrd   cry  of  drsprir' sot   Mrs 
lerriberry's  plain  fa.-.,  in  linos  of  distres.s. 

"Kssie,    Es.sie,    d„„-t    fv.,.1    .„,    |,j,jr.    ,,„.    ,,    „     , 
chokinj/Iy.  ^^ 

The    girls    answrr    was    a    swift    look    of    bitter 
reproach. 

"You  can  stay  hero  until  you  find  some  phiro  that 
Kuits  you." 

The  pirl  shook  her  hea<?. 

"To-morrow  I'll  pro— somewhere. " 

"i)oii't  feel  hard  toward  rre,  E.ssie,"  and  she 
would  nave  taken  the  jrirls  hand,  but  she  drew  it 
•n'H'tly  away  and  stood  with  folded  arms  u,  an 
attitude  of  aloofness   which   was  new   to   her 

"It's  not  that:  it's  only  that  I  don't  want  vour- 
pity.  r  doM  't  think  that  I  want  anvthin-  vou  have  to 
Kive  \ou  have  hnrt  n.e;  you  have  cut' mo  to  the 
quick  and  .somethin.^  i,  happeninfr-has  happened- 
fun!  bhe  laid  both  hands  upon  her  heart  "I  feel 
still  and  cold  and  sort  of-impersonal  inside  " 
"Oh.  Es.sie!" 

"I  understand  perfectly,  Mrs.  Terriberrv  You 
hke  me-you  like  me  very  much,  but  you  are  ^ne  kind 
of  a  coward,  and  of  what  value  is  a  coward's  friend- 
ship or  rejrard  ?  I  dr.n  't  mean  to  be  importinent-T  'm 
inst  trj'ingr  to  explain  how  I  feel.  In  your  heart  vou 
believe  in  mo    Imf  ir^,,,  „»„  „j? •  t       »_  . ,     . 

.  ■   -.1     r..^     .-i;.;;u aiiaiu    oi     public 


DOWN   AM)  Ol'T 


!2S9 


(tpiiiion— afraid  of  IxMriL,'  Ifl't  mit  of  tho  teas  and 
lanl  parties  which  nwan  mon-  Id  yoii  than  I  do. 
You've  Uiiowu  mo  all  my  life  and  fail  nif  at  the  first 
test." 

"I  hate  to  hoar  you  talk  like  that  :  it  doesn't  sound 


like  Kssie  Tisdale 


Hut  iu   her  heart  she  knew  tin 


he 


girl  was  ri^dit.  She  was  a  coward ;  she  had  not  t 
reciiiisite  eouratre  to  set  lier  face  n!;ai"-.t  the  crowd, 
l)ut  must  needs  turn  and  run  with  them  while  every 
impulse  and  instinct  within  her  pulled  the  other  way. 

'•Doesn't  it?"  The  -jrirl  smiled  bitterly.  "Why 
shouhl  it?  Caii't  vou  see— don't  you  understand  that 
you've  helped  kill  that  Essie  Tisdale — that  blunder- 
ing, ij,'norant  i^ssie  Tisdale  who  liked  everybody  and 
believed  in  everybody  jis  she  thought  they  liked  aud 
believed  in  her?" 

"Dear  me!  oh.  dear  me!"  Mrs.  Terril)erry  rubbed 
her  forehead  and  groaned  pathetically. 

Any  consecutive  line  of  thought  outside  the  usual 
channels  pulled  Mrs.  Terriberry  down  like  a  spell 
of  sickness.  She  looked  jaded  from  the  present  con- 
versation aiul  her  thoughts  nm  together  b^wilderingly. 

"I  know  to-night  how  an  outlaw  feels  when  the 
posse's  at  his  heels  aud  he  rides  with  murder  in  his 
heart,"  the  girl  went  on  with  hardness  in  her  young 
voice.  "I  know  to-night  why  he  makes  them  pay  dear 
for  his  life  when  he  takes  his  last  stand  behind  a 
rock. ' ' 

"Oh,  Essie,  don't!"  Mrs.  Terriberrj-  wnmg  her 
garnet  and  moonstone-ringed  fingers  together  in  dis- 
tress.   "You  mustn't  get  reckless!" 

"What  real  difference  does  it  make  to  yon  or  any- 
body else  how  T  get?"  she  demanded  fiercely,  and 
added:  "You  are  showing  me  how  much  when  you 


JtSO 


THE  LADY   DOC 


advortiso  to  all  the  town  by  turning  me  out  that  you 
believe  their  evil  tonjrues. " 

"I'm  goin'  to  talk  to  Hank  a^-ain "  but  Essie 

stopped  hor  with  a  vehement  gesture 

"You  needn't.  I  don't  want  pity,  I  tell  vou  I 
<lon  t  want  favors.  I  am  ,oing  to-morrow.  'tLI 
IS  some  way  out.  There  is  a  place  in  the  world  for  me 
somewhere  ard  I'll  find  it." 

She  turned  away  and  walked  toward  the  corral 
where  the  black  omnibus  horses  nickered  softlv  at  her 
<-omin.  whde  Alphonse  .nd  Gaston  stood  on  their 
hind  legs  and  squealed  a  vociferous  welcome 

"My  only  friends "  and  she  smiled  bitterly 

She  winced  when  slie  saw  a  new  face  passing  the 
\ZZ  r:  '""^'''''^''^  that  Mr.  Terriberrj^  already 
had  filled  her  p.ace.  It  was  only  one  small  thing 
more,  but  it  brought  again  the  feeling  that  the  world 
was  sinking  beneath  her  feet. 

She  sto,Kl  for  a  long  time  with  her  forehead  rest- 

ng  on  her  folded  arms  which  lay  upon  the  top  rail  of 

he  corral.    The  big  'bus  horses  shoved  her  gently  with 

heir  sof   muzzles,  impatient  to  be  noticed,  ?nit  she  dui 

o    hft  her  head  until  a  step  upon  the  hard-trodden 

>ard  roused  her  from  her  apathy  of  dull  miserj^     She 

glanced    around    indiflVrently    to    ..e    old    Fdouard 

Dubois  Jumbenng  toward  her  iu  the  fa^t  gathering 

Dubois's  self-conscious,  ingratiating  smile  did  not 
fade  because  she  drew  her  arched  eyebrows  together 
an  a  slight  frown.  It  took  more  than  an  unwelcoming 
face  to  divert  the  ob^inate  ohl  Frenchman  from  any 
purpose  firmly  fixed  in  his  mind 

TJi"r~T  r  u''''  ^^''^   *"  ^^^  >'«"  «^«°^'   '^^ee« 
Teesdale,   I  lak  have   leetle  talk  with  you."     There 


"  DOWN  AND  OUT  " 


231 


was  a  purposeful  look  behind  his  set  smile  of 
agreeableness. 

She  shrank  from  him  a  little  as  he  came  close  to 
her,  but  he  a])peared  not  to  notice  the  movement,  and 
went  on — 

"I  hear  you  are  in  trouble — eh?  I  hear  you  get 
fire  from  ze  hotel?" 

Again  the  girl's  face  took  on  its  new  look  of  bit- 
terness. That  was  the  way  in  which  they  were 
expressing  it,  spreading  the  news  throughout  the  town. 
They  were  losing  no  time — her  friends. 

"  'Fired'  is  the  word  when  a  biscuit-shooter  is 
dismissed,"  she  returned  coldly. 

"  I  hear  you  get  lef '  by  that  loafer,  too.  I  tole  you, 
mam'selle,  that  follow  Van  Lennop  no  good.  I  know 
that  kind,  I  see  that  kind  before,  Mees  Teesdale.  Lak 
every  pretty  girl  an'  have  good  time,  then  'pouf ! — 
zat  is  all!" 

She  turnsd  upon  him  hotly,  her  face  a  mixture  of 
humiliation  and  angry  resentment. 

"You  can't  criticise  him  to  me,  Mr.  Dubois!  I 
won't  listen.  If  I  have  been  fool  enough  to  misun- 
derstand his  kindness  that's  my  fault,  not  his." 

Dubois's  eyes  became  suddenly  inscrutable.  After 
;i  moment's  silence  he  said  quietly — 

"You  love  heem,  I  think.  Zat  iss  too  bad  for  you. 
What  you  do  now,  Mees  Teesdale?    Where  you  go?" 

He  saw  that  her  clasped  hands  tightened  at  the 
question,  though  she  replied  calmly — 

"I  don't  know,  not  yet." 

"Perhaps  you  marry  me,  mam'selle?  I  ask  you 
once — I  haf  not  change  my  mind." 

She  stared  at  him  with  a  kind  of  terror  in  her 
eyes. 


;i»>*BHitf."»  iS,in„r^ 


232 


THE  LAbV  DOC 


Was  tJus  her  way  out!  .7as  this  the  place  that 
somewhere  in  the  world  she  had  declared  defiantly 
jvas  meant  for  her?  Was  it  the  purpose  of  the  Fates 
to  crowd  her  do.vn  and  out-until  she  was  glad  to 
m  it-a  punishment  for  hor  ambitions-for  darin- 
to  beheve  she  was  intended  for  some  other  life  than 
this  i 

Upon  that  previous  oceauon  when  the  old  French- 
man had  made  her  the  offer  of  marriage  which  had 
seemed  so  grotesque  and  impossible  at  the  time,  he  had 
asserted  in  his  pique,  "You  might  be  glad  to  marrv 
old  Edouard  Dubois  some  day,"  and  she  had 
turned  her  back  upon  him  in  light  contempt-now  she 
was,  not  glad,  she  could  never  be  that,  but  grateful 

But  I-don't  love  you."     Her  voice  sounded 
strained  and  hoarse. 

"Zat  question  I  did  not  ask  you-I  ask  you  will 
you  marry  me?"  He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but 
went  01  persuasively,  yet  stating  the  bald  and  hopeless 
facts  that  seemed  so  crushing  to  her  youth  and  inex- 
perience. "You  have  no  parent-no  home,  Mees 
reesdale ;  you  have  no  money  and  not  so  many  friend 
m  Crowheart.    You  marry  me  and  all  is  change.    You 

uifTl  ^°"''  ''"'^  "''"^''  ^^^e^'iS'  because,"  he 
chuck'.^  shrewdly,  "when  I  die  you  have  thirty  thou- 
sand  shee:-.     Plenty  sheep,  plenty  friends,  mV  girl 

How  you  like  be  the  richest  woman  in  this  big  county 
mam'selle?"  s  i-uuuiy, 

The  girl  was  listeninrr,  that  was  something;  and 
she  was  thinking  hard. 

Money!  how  they  all  harped  upon  it!-when  she 
had  thought  the  most  important  thing  in  the  world 
was  love.  Even  Ogden  Van  Lennop  she  remembered 
bad  called  it  the  great  essential  and  now  shp  saw  that 


"DOWN  AND  OUT" 


233 


old  Edouard  Dubois  who  had  lived  for  seventy  years 
regarded  it  in  a  wholly  reverent  light. 

"When  yoii  marry  me  you  have  no  more  worry, 
no  more  trouble,  no  more  tears." 

Her  lips  moved ;  she  was  repeating  to  herself — 

"No  more  worrj',  no  more  trouble,  no  more  tears." 

She  was  bewildered  with  the  problems  which  con- 
fronted her,  frightened  by  the  overwhelming  odds 
against  her,  tired  of  thinking,  sick  to  death  of  the 
humiliation  of  her  position.  She  stopped  the  guttural, 
wheedling  voice  with  a  quick,  vehement  gesture. 

"Give  me  time  to  think — give  me  until  to-morrow 
morning. ' ' 

"What  time  to-morrow  morning?" 

"At  ten  o'clock," — there  was  dci^.peration  in  her 
face — ' '  at  ten  to-morrow  I  will  tell  yoii  '  yes '  or  '  no. '  " 

She  was  clutching  at  a  straw,  clinging  to  a  faint 
hope  which  had  not  entirely  deserted  her:  she  might 
yet  get  a  letter  from  Van  Lennop,  just  a  line  to  let 
her  know  that  he  cared  enough  to  send  it ;  and  if  it 
came,  a  single  sentence,  she  knew  well  enough  what 
her  answer  to  Dubois  would  be. 

"Until  to-morrow."  The  old  Frenchman  bowed 
low  in  clumsy  and  unaccustomed  politeness,  but  gloat- 
ing satisfaction  shone  from  his  deep-set  eyes,  small 
and  hard  as  two  gray  marbles. 


XX 

An  Unfoktunate  Affaib 

Billy  Duncan  was  in  a  bad  way,  so  it  was  reported 
to  the  men  upon  the  works,  and  the  men  to  show 
their  sympathy  and  liking  for  the  fair-haired,  happy- 
go-lucky  Billy  Duncan  made  up  a  purse  of  $90  and 
sent  It  to  him  by  Dan  Treu,  th.  l,ig  deputy-sheriff 
who  also  was  Billy  Duncan's  friend. 

"It'll  buy  fruit  for  the  kid,  something  to  read 
and  a  special  nurse  if  he  needs  one,"  they  told  the 
deputy  and  they  gave  the  money  with  the  warmest 
of  good  wishes. 

Dan    Treu   took   their   gift   to   the   hospital,    an.I 
Billy  Duncan  burst  into  tears  when  he  saw  him 

"Oh,  come,  come!    Buck  up,  Billy,  you're  goin' 
to  pull  through  all  right." 

"Dan!  Dan!  Take  me  out  of  here-take me  away ! 
Quick!"  •' 

The  deputy  looked  his  surprise. 

^''What's  the  matter,  Billy?    What's  wrong?" 

"Everything's  wrong,  Dan,  everything'"  Hia 
voice  was  shrill  in  his  weakness.  "I'm  goin'  to  croak 
if  you  don't  get  me  out  of  here!" 

Dan  Treu  bent  over  him  and  patted  his  shoulder 
as  he  would  have  comforted  a  child. 

"There,  there,  don't  talk  like  that,  Billv  You're 
not  go.n'  to  croak.  You're  a  little  down  in  \he  mouth 
that  s  all."  He  glanced  around  the  tiny  room  "It 
looks  clean  and  comfortable  here ;  you're  lucky  to  have 
a  place  like  this  to  go  to  and  Duo's  a  blamed  good 
fellow.    She'll  pull  you  through." 

234 


AN  UNFORTUNATE  AFFAIR 


235 


"But  she  ain't,  Dan — she  ain't  anything  that  we 
thought.  Lay  here  sick  if  you  want  to  find  her  out. 
She  thinks  we  don't  count,  us  fellows  on  the  works, 
and  Lamb's  no  better,  only  he's  more  sneakin' — he 
hasn't  her  gall."  lie  searched  the  deputy's  face  for 
a  moment  then  cried  pitifully,  "You  don't  believe  me, 
Dan.  You  think  I'm  sore  about  something  and 
stretchin'  tho  truth.  It's  so,  Dan — I  tell  you  they 
left  me  here  the  night  I  was  brought  in  until  the  next 
forenoon  without  touchin'  my  arm.  They've  never 
half  cleared  the  hole  out.  It's  swelled  to  the  shoulder 
and  little  pieces  of  my  shirt  keep  sloughing  out.  Any 
cowpuncher  with  a  jack-knife  could  do  a  better  job 
than  they  have  done.  They  don't  know  how,  Dan, 
and  vi^hat's  worse  they  don't  care!" 

He  reached  for  the  deputy's  hand  and  clung  to  it 
as  he  begged  again — 

"My  God!  Dan,  won't  you  btMeve  me  and  get  mo 
out  of  here?  Honest,  honest,  I'm  goin'  to  die  ir  you 
don't!" 

In  his  growing  excitement  the  boy's  voice  rose  to 
a  penetrating  pitch  and  it  brought  Lamb  quickly  from 
the  office  in  the  front.  He  looked  disconcerted  for  an 
instant  when  he  saw  the  deputy,  for  lie  had  not  known 
of  his  presence  in  the  hospital.  Glancing  from  one 
to  the  other  he  read  something  of  the  situation  in 
Billy  Duncan's  excited  face  and  Dan  Treu's  puzzled 
look.  Stepping  back  from  the  doorway  he  beckoned 
the  deputy  into  the  hall. 

"I  guess  he  was  talkin'  wild,  wasn't  he?"  He 
walked  out  of  the  sick  boy's  hearing.  "Kickin', 
wasn't  he?" 

Dan  Treu  hesitated. 

KT    i.l._,,_l.x     --   — --,-Vs   "   V-..-..1  .•?.-..?    T.-.vwV.         "t3«t 


:  A 


it 


236 


THE   LADV  DOC 


mustn't  pay  any  attention  to  hira.     His  fever's  way 
up  and  he's  out  of  his  head  most  of  the  time." 

u   '?!l^^T^  **"  *^^"^  ^'«  ^'■^  ain't  had  the  care  it 
should,    — Treu's     voice     was     troubled— "that     the 
wound  am't  clean  and  it's  swellin'  bad." 
Lamb  laughed. 

"Ilis  hallucination  ;  he's  way  off  at  times.  Every, 
thing  s  been  done  for  him.  We  like  the  boy  and  he's 
havin  the  best  of  care.  Why,  we  couldn't  afford  to 
have  It  get  around  that  we  neglect  our  patients,  so  you 
see  what  he  says  ain  't  sense. ' ' 

The  deputy-sheriff's  face  cleared  gradually  at 
Liamb  s  explanation  and  solicitude. 

"Yes,  I  guess  he  is  a  little  'off,'  though  I  must  sav 
he  don  t  exactly  look  it.     But  do  all  you  can  for  him' 
Lamb,  for  Billy's  a  fine  chap  at  heart  and  he's  a  friend 
of  mme.    The  boys  have  raised  some  money  for  any 
extras  that  he  wants— I  put  it  under  his  pillow." 
Lamb  brightened  perceptibly. 
"That's  a  good  thing,  because  seein'  as  how  he 
wasn't  hurt  on  the  works  he'll  have  to  pay  like  any 
private  patient  and  of  course  we'd  like  to  see  where 
our  money  is  comin'  from.     I've  asked  him  for  the 
money-his  week  is  up  to-day-but  he  don't  seem  to 
think  he  owes  it." 

"Kind  of  strikes  me  the  same  way,"  replied  the 
deputy  obviously  surprised. 

"That's  accord  in'  to  contract— that 's  the  written 
agreement."  Lamb's  nasal  voice  immediately  became 
argumentative. 

"It  may  be  that. "-the  deputy  looked  at  him 
soberly-  but  it  don't  sound  I,kc  common  humanitv 
to  me-or  fairness.  He's  been  paying  a  dollar  a 
month  to  you  and  your  hospital  ever  since  it.  starf^d 


AN  UNFORTUNATE  AFFAIR 


237 


and  hundreds  of  men  who  have  no  need  of  its  services 
have  been  doin'  the  same,  and  I  must  say,  Lamb,  it 
sounds  like  pretty  small  potatoes  for  you  to  charge 
him  for  an  outside  accident  like  this  because  your 
contract  will  let  you  do  it  and  get  away  with  it." 

"We  ain't  here  for  our  health,  be  we?"  demanded 
Lamb,  offensively  on  the  defensive. 

"It  don't  look  like  it,"  Treu  replied  shortly. 

"But  he'll  want  for  nothin'  while  he's  under  our 
care."  Lamb's  tone  grew  suddenly  conciliatory. 
"You'd  better  go  now,  your  presence  excites  him  and 
he  must  have  quiet.  Step  to  the  door  and  say  good-by, 
if  you  like,  but  no  conversation,  please. ' ' 

"Adios,  Billy!"  The  deputy  thrust  his  head  and 
broad  shoulders  in  the  doorway.  "I'll  come  again 
soon." 

"Good-by,  Dan,  good-by  for  keeps,  old  man.  I 
don't  believe  I'll  be  here  when  you  come  again." 
All  the  excitement  was  gone  and  the  boy  spoke  in  the 
quiet  voice  of  conviction.  "You're  quittin'  me,  Dan. 
You  don't  believe  me  and  the  jig's  up.  You'd  risk 
your  life  to  save  me  if  I  was  drowning  or  up  against 
it  in  a  fight,  but  you're  walkin'  away  and  leavin'  me 
here  to  die.  You  don't  believe  me  now,  but  I  know 
you  're  goin '  to  find  out  some  time  for  yourself  that  I  'm 
tellin'  the  truth  when  I  say  that  I've  been  murdered. 
There's  more  ways  to  kill  a  man  than  with  a  gun. 
Ignorance  and  neglect  does  the  trick  as  well.  Tell  the 
boys  'much  obliged,'  Dan."  He  turned  his  white 
face  to  the  wall  and  the  tears  slipped  hot  from  be- 
neath his  lashes. 

Dan  Treu's  troubled  eyes  sought  Lamb's,  who 
waited  in  the  hallway. 


■  t 


xit:  ii   VK  iiiiuscii    wneii  you  come  agam,      said 


238 


THE   LADV   DOC 


Lamb  reassuringly.     "We're  doin'  cverj-thing  to  git 
his  lever  down.    Don't  let  his  talk  worrv  you  " 

But  in  spite  of  Lamb's  eonfident  a-sJurance  Dan 
ireu   walked   away  from   the   hospital   filled   with  a 
sense  of  oppression  which  lasted  throu-^hout  the  day 
The  next  mornin<r  he  heard  upon  the  street  that  they 
had  amputated  Billy  Dunean's  ann 

sheriff- ^?*'^-  ^''^■'  ^""^'^"'^  "™'"  The  deputy- 
sher^fl  kept  saying  ^t  over  and  over  to  himself  as  he 

hurried  0  the  hospital.  He  was  shocked;  he  wa 
fi  ed  with  a  regret  that  was  personal  in  its  poignaney. 
lie  knew  exactly  what  such  a  loss  meant  to  Billy 
Dunean,  w-ho  earned  his  living  with  his  hands  and 
gloried  in  his  strength-independent  voun-  Billv 
Dimean  an  object  of  pity  in  his  mutilated  manhood^ 
i^an  Ireu  could  not  entirely  realize  it  yet 

Lamb  met  him  at  the  hospital  doc;  as  though  he 
had  awaited  his  coming. 

whil'>f''"'^"^i'^r°^'''  ''^  ^"'"  ^'  ^^^^«  ^ith  a  haste 
which  seemed  due  to  excitement.    "Developed  sudden 
Had  to  amputate  to  save  his  life.     He  was  willin' 
eno^ugh;  he  knew  it  was  for  the  best,  his  on"  ehln^e 

Dan  Treu  was  seized  with  a  sudden  aversion  for 

stea'dHy""'"''"''""'"' '"  '"■  ''°"  ^y'"  He  eyed  Lamb 

tbar^Bad'tS..^""  "'°^'  ''^""'  "°""^  »^  ^" 

''Bad  blood-hell!"  said  Dan  Treu  sharply.    "Hi, 
blood  „.a.  as  good  as  yours  or  mi.e,  and  his  habita 

He  made  to  step  inside,  but  Lamb  >tn,„^A  ).;_ 


AN  UNFORTUNATE  AFFAIR 


239 


"lie  hasn't  come  out  of  the  ether  yet— I'll  let  you 
know  when  you  can  see  him." 

There  was  not}iinj<  more  to  say,  so  Dan  Treu  turned 
on  his  heel  and  walked  away,  angr>',  sceptical — with- 
out exactly  knowing  why. 

The  aversion  which  Lamb  had  mspired  was  still 
strong  within  him  when  he  stopped  on  a  street  corner 
to  ruminate  and  incidentally  roll  a  cigarette. 

"When  he  gets  close  I  feel  like  I  do  when  a  wet 
dog  comes  out  of  the  crick  and  is  goin'  to  shake." 
The  deputy  felt  uncommonly  pleased  with  the  simile 
which  so  well  described  his  feelings. 

Dan  Treu  did  not  receive  the  promised  notification 
that  Billy  Duncan  was  in  a  condition  to  be  seen, 
which  was  not  strange,  since  Billy  Duncan  was  dying 
— dying  because  a  man  and  woman  whose  diplomas 
licensed  them  to  juggle  with  human  life  and  limb 
were  unable  in  their  ignorance  and  inexperience  to 
stop  the  flow  of  blood.  Vital,  life-loving,  happy-go- 
lucky  Billy  Duncan  lay  limp  on  his  narrow  bed  in 
the  bare,  white  room,  filled  with  a  great  heart -sickness 
at  the  uselessness  of  it,  the  helpless  ignominy  of  dying 
like  a  stuck  pig!  With  a  last  effort  he  turned  his 
head  upon  his  pillow  and  through  the  window  by  his 
bedside  watched  the  colors  of  the  distant  foothills 
change  from  gold  to  purple — purple  like  the  shadows 
of  the  Big  Dark  for  which  he  was  bound.  And  when 
at  last  the  night  shut  out  the  world  he  loved  so  well, 
Billy  Duncan  coughed — a  choking,  strangling  cough 
and  died  alone, 

Nell  Beeeroft  learned  it  first  when  she  brought  the 
soup  and  prunes  which  she  was  pleased  to  call  his 
supper.    She  set  the  tray  upon  the  bed  and  stood  with 


arms  akimbo  Inok'Tic  dnxm  imnn  >ii» 


T"llo  KnvioVi  Innlr 


.'^40 


THK   LAUV   DOC 


'  I 


of  him  as  he  lay  so  still  brouj^'ht  the  thought  home 
to  her  for  the  first  time  that  somewhere  in  the  world 
there  was  some  one—a  mother— a  woman  like  her 
self  who  loved  yoiinj?  liijly  Dunean.  She  stoope-l 
and  with  rou^'h  ^'erltlenes.s  brushed  a  lock  of  fair  hair 
from  his  forehead. 

"Poor  devil!"  she  murmured. 

"He's    dead."      She    conveyed    the    new.s   shortly 
when  Lamb  came  to  make  his  nitrhtlv  round 

"Who?" 

"The  kid— Billy  Duncan." 

Lamb  looked  startled.  It  had  come  sooner  than  he 
thoujrht.  Recovorin-  himself,  he  wa-ged  his  head 
and  si<rhed  in  his  pious  whine: 

"Ah.  truly,  'the  wa'res  of  sin  is  death.'  Alto- 
gether L  most  unfortunate  affair,  but  no  human  skill 
(ould  save  him."  His  voice  faltered  a  little,  at  the 
end.  for  pivtence  seemed  ridiculous  beneath  Nell 
Reeeroft's  hard  eyes,  and  her  unpleasant  laugh  nettled 
him  as  she  strode  back  to  the  kitchen. 

Yes,  Billy  Duncan  was  dead— there  -was  no  doubt 
about  that-perfectly  and  safely  dead.  There  was  no 
question  of  it  in  Dr.  Lamb's  mind  when  he  slipped 
his  hand  beneath  the  pillow  and  withdrew  the  $90 
which  Billy  Duncan  had  so  ob.stinatelv  refused  to 
turn  over  toward  his  hospital  expenses.  Ninety 
dollars;  yes,  it  was  ;.ll  there;  Lamb  counted  it  care- 
fully. Little  enou-h  for  the  trouble  and  anxietv 
he  had  been.  The  eminent  surgeon's  waistcoat  bul-ed 
with  the  gift  of  Billy  Duncan's  friends  when  he  closed 
the  door  behind  him. 

A  curious  stillness  came  over  Dan  Treu  when  Lamb 
himself  brought  the  news  that  Billy  Duncan  was  dead 
Ills  jaw  dropped  slightly  and  he  forgot  to  smoke 


AN  UNFOUTIINATE  AFFAIK 


tUl 


"The  shock — his  weakened  eondition — it  was  to  be 
expected,  thouph  we  hoped  for  the  best."  Lamb  found 
it  HomeUiinf:  of  an  elTort  to  speak  naturally  l)eneatli 
the  Deputy-sherifT's  fixed  |,'a/.e.  "Jiut  he  wanted  for 
nothinfr.    Me  and  the  nurse  was  with  him  at  the  last." 

A  mist  blurred  Dan  Trou'.s  eyes  and  he  turned 
abruptly  on  his  heel. 

"Wait  a  minute'    Ahem!  there's  one  thin^  more." 

The  de()uty  halted. 

"You  will  arraufre  with  the  County  about  his 
funeral  expenses?" 

"With  the  County?     Hilly  Duncan's  no  pauper." 

"Why  ain't  he?  I've  been  around  and  found  out 
he's  frot  nothin'  in  the  bank." 

"You  have?"  He  eyed  Lamb  for  a  moment. 
"Billy  Duncfin  will  not  be  buried  by  the  County," 
he  finished  curtly. 

"I'm  f,'lad  to  hear  that,"  said  Lamb  conciliatingly, 
and  added:  "Of  course  you're  not  couutiug  ou  that 
$90?" 

"There  must  be  some  left." 

"Oh.  no — nothinp.  Arm  amputations  are  a  $100. 
We  are  really  out  $10 — more  than  that  with  his  board 
and  all,  but" — his  tone  was  magnanimity  itself — "let 
it  go." 

When  the  Deputy-sheriff  went  out  on  the  works 
and  raised  $125  more  among  Billy  Dunean's  friends, 
he  handed  it  to  Lutz,  the  hospital  undertaker,  and 
said — 

"The  best  you  can  do  for  the  money.  Lutz.  I've 
got  to  go  to  the  County  seat  on  a  ease  and  I  can't  be 
here  myself.  Billy  was  a  personal  frieml  of  mine, 
so  treat  him  right." 

oure;  we  eaa  turn  Lim  oul  iirsl-uiass  for  Ihal 
If 


'4 


il 


'*i-^*l 


-.,.- 

!i:ll 


«42 


TIIK   LADV    DOC 


noney ;  a  now  H„,t  «f  clothes  and  a  tony  coffin      Any 
inend  of  y<.urs  I  'll  handl.  like  he  wa«  my  own  " 
1  here  V.U.  sonu'thin^  slightly  jocular  in  his  tone  a 
iF>paney  whu.h  Dan  Treu  felt  and  .silently  rosent;d 

'1  '  •;:"":'  h;^^.":-^""'^''--^  '^own  eyes  as  .lull  a.s  the 
>  H  <.    a  dead  /ish,  and  he  thought  to  hin.self  a.    he 
walked  away — 

"Th.t  feller's  in  the  right  business,  and,  by  gosh 
he  s  thrown  in  with  the  right  buueh  "  ' 

The  ,M-ave-di,'ger-s  mouth  puekered  in  a  whistle 
^^hen  Lut.  went  to  his  home  to  notify  him  that  h  3 
s.-rviees  were   needed. 

"What!  Another"" 

The  undertaker  {,'rinned. 

,,,t  ^^''^  ""^T^  T^  ^'^'  ^^^'"^  ^'ttin'  robbed  of  my 
ro-st        eomphuned    the    grave-digger.     "This    ni^ht 
work  ain't  to  my  taste."  ^ 

thai'lh,'  "V'7.^^;"'^';"'=  >-"  know  what  Lamb  say^ 
nelghbl^:'"  '"'     "'"'  ""'^-^  ^^^^  amongst  the 

"Should    think    it   would."   retorted    the   grave- 
digger,"  H.th  them  typhoids  dyin'  like  flies  " 
I  thought  of  a  joke,  Lem." 
;;Undertakin'  is  a  comical  business;  what  is  it?" 
When   an   undertaker's  sick   ought  he   to  go  to 
the  doc-tor  what  gives  him  the  most  work  or  the  leS   - 
You  got  rne  ;  I  'H  think  it  over  and  let  you  know. " 
In  spde  of  h,s  garrulous  complaints  the  grave- 
dagger  wa«  at  work  in  a  new  grave  on  the  sagebrush 
fl.     a  mje  or  more  from  town  when  the  undertaker 
and  the  hveryman  drove  up  at  midnight  with  all  that 
remained  of  Billy  Duncan  jolting  i;  the  box  of  a 
lumber  wagon. 


AN   UN'FOHTIINATK  Al  FAIR 


243 


Th»^  collin  of  uiiplanod  luinbfr  was  uiilnadod  at 
tlic  jjravo  1111(1  the  livorvinati  hastrru'ii  away,  for  lu; 
himself  had  iu»  liking'  for  these  nocturnal  drives,  but 
neither  was  lie  the  man  to  (|uarrel  with  his  own  inter- 
ests. If  tlie  Health  ()tTlii-<'r  and  His  Honor,  the 
mayor,  asked  no  (inestions  when  the  hospital  deaths 
werit  uiirei)orte<l,  he  f(>lt  that  these  fre(iueut  midnight 
pili^rima.t,"'s  were  no  eoneern  of  his. 

The  undertaker  peered  into  the  shallovv'  fjravo. 

"This  hole  looks  like  a  ehickia  had  been  tlustia' 
it.self." 

"You'd  thiid<  it  was  deep  enouj,'h  if  you  was 
dijTS'n'  in  these  roeks  and  drawin'  only  .^5.00  for  it," 
was  the  tart  reply.  "I  told  you  I  wouldn't  difj  but 
three  feet  for  that  money.  'Tain't  like  diprfrin'  in 
nice,  easy  Xebrasky  soil,  (limine  $10  a  <?rave  an'  I'll 
dig  'em  rei,'alation  depth." 

"Quit  jawin'  and  take  holt  of  this  here  bo.K." 

"Is  he  heavy?" 

"Never  hoard  of  any  of  'em  comin'  out  of  there 
fat.    Slide  the  strap  under  your  end." 

"He's  heavier  than  most,"  grunted  the  grave- 
digger,    "lie  couldn't  a  been  in  there  long." 

Lutz  laughed. 

* '  They  made  a  quick  job  of  this  one.  Steady  now — 
let  her  slide." 

The  grave-digger  was  sleepy  and  cross  and  care- 
less. The  strap  slipped  through  his  fingers  and  the 
box  fell  with  a  heavy  thud.  It  fell  upon  its  side  and 
the  lid  came  off. 

"My  God!"  The  grave-digger  was  staring  into 
the  hole  with  all  his  bulging  eyes. 

"You  fool!     You  clumsy,  blunderin'  fool!" 

i  iiO    CpiLIitt    piiSocLi    uunCtirU,    lOi     tile    ^TttVc-*  ;i^i^'~ T 


111  i 

if.;  - 

I  ;| 

ij 


244 


THE   LADY   DOC 


was  lookinsr  at  the  stark  body  rolled  in  a  soiled  blanket 
DOW  lying  face  downward  in  the  dirt  of  the  grave. 

"Jump  in  there  and  put  him  back!"  cried  Lutz 
excitedly. 

The  grave-digger  backed  off  and  shook  his  head 
emphatically. 
"Not  mc.'" 
"What  are  you  here  for— yon  ? " 

"Not  for  jobs  like  this;  this  sure  don't  look  riirht 
to  me." 

"What  do  I  care  how  it  looks  to  von!     Get  busy 
aid  help  me  roll  him  back  and  be  (piirk  about  it!" 
"I  am't  paid  for  no  such  c:-(K)ked  work  as  this  " 
"Crooked?" 

"I've  heard  it  straight  that  every  pauper  had  a 
suit  o  clothes,  a  coffin,  a  six-foot  grave,  and  a  head- 
board comin'  to  him  from  the  County.     That's  the 

"Look  here,  Lem.  use  a  little  sens,-  Now  what's 
the  use  spendin'  County  money  on  these  paupers  from 
God  knows  where?     That's  a  good  blanket." 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  a  jieach  of  a  blanket.  Kind  of  a 
shame  to  waste  such  a  good  blanket,  nin'l  it"  Why 
don't  you  take  it  off  him?  He'll  never  tell  But 
say,^are  you  sure  the  County  don't  pay  for  that  suit 
of  Ciothes  and  coffin  and  six  feet  of  diggin'  he  didn't 
git? 

^''Are  you  goin'  to  lend  a  hand  here  or  not?*' 
"Not."     The  grave-digger  picked  up   his  shovel 

and  started  off  looking  like  a  gnome  in  the  moonlight 

under  his  high-crowned  Stetson. 

' '  Come  back  here !    ^on  't  be  a  f oo! . " 

"I'm  not  the  man  you're  lookin'  for,"  he  replied 
Btubbomlv. 


AN  UNFORTUNATE  AFFAIR 


245 


The  undertaker  started  after  him  and  laid  a  hand 
rouijhly  upon  his  ami. 

"See  here,  Leni,  you  -^oin'  to  blab  this  all  over 
town?" 

Kemembering  the  graves  he  had  dug  for  $5.00,  the 
grave-digger  began  to  enjoy  Lutz's  anxiety. 

"Can't  tell  what  I'll  do  wlien  I  get  a  fevr  drinks 
in  me." 

'  •  You  .start  somethin '  and  you  '11  be  sorry. ' '  Lutz  's 
tone  was  threatening. 

"I'm  naturally  truthful;  I  aims  to  stick  strictly  to 
facts  if  I  does  talk." 

"Facts  don't  c  any  ice  in  a  libel  suit,"  replied 
the  undertaker  significantly. 

Libel  suit!  That  sounded  like  the  law  and  the 
grave-digger  had  a  poor  man's  fear  of  the  law.  There 
was  less  assurance  in  his  voice  when  he  asserted— 

'  *  No  man  don 't  own  me. ' ' 

"I  don't  want  to  see  you  get  ir.  trouble,  Lem,  and 
I'm  tcllin'  you  for  your  own  good  that  you  better 
keep  your  trap  shut  on  this.  Who'd  believe  you  if 
you'd  tell  any  such  storv?  You  coulun't  prove  any- 
thing with  the  mayor  and  town  officer  .-i gainst  you  if 
it  was  anything  likely  to  get  out  and  hurt  the  town. 
Who  of  Lamb  andllaroe's  friends  that  see  them  pi  kin' 
off  to  church  ever  Sunday,  singin'  their  sa'ms  and 
the  first  at  the  al'ar  of  a  Communion  Sunday,  who, 
I  say.  v.ould  believe  us  if  we'd  tell  what  we  knew 
about  that  hospital  and  the  whole  lot  more  that  we 
suspect?  They  could  bluff  you  out  because  you 
haven 't  got  the  money  it  would  take  to  prove  you  're 
riirht.  Come  back  here  and  behave  yourself  and  I'll 
try  and  get  you  that  $10." 


ir  ^" 

u 


ft 
in 


:'f' 


246 


THE  LADY  DOC 


mumbled  the 


"If  I  wasn't  a  family  man 

grave-digger. 

"But  you  are,  and  it's  no  use  bein*  squeamish  over 
some  hin  that's  none  of  your  business.  This  is  your 
bread  and  butter."  ^ 

It  was  the  argument  which  has  tied  men's  tongues 
since  the  world  began  and  it  never  grows  less  effee^vT 
The  shovel  dropped  from  the  grave-digger'.  shoulder. 
Hop  in  here  and  help  me  roll  him  back." 
The  grave-digger  reluctantly  obeved 
"This  looks  fierce  to  me. "    He  wiped  the  cold  per- 
spiration from  his  forehead 

and  forgcUtr  '  "'  ''""''  '^  ^'^"^  «lnngle-nails 

to  Z^r""  ^^  ^'"''  ''^"™^^^  ^^°^  ^''^'  business  trip 
to  the  County  seat  the  undertaker  met  him  smilingh 
I  made  a  fine  show  for  the  monev,  Dan  you'd 
have  been  pleased.  Everything  was  plain  but  good 
and  went  off  without  a  slip.  I  handled  him  as  I 
promised— like  he  was  my  own." 

The  few  in  Crowheart  who  heard  the  story  laughed 
openly  at  the  statement  which  Giovanni  Pelezzo  m  de 
hen  he  returned  to  eamp  one  day  and  declared  tha 
while  seated  in  the  doorway  of  the  operating  room  of 

take  five   dollars  and  some  small  chan-e  from  tL 
emended  lor  a  minor  operation 

outlfvTrffv  o"'™"  '""""  *■•'  '^'"P'y  P'-^ets  inside 
out  to  ver  fy  Giovanni's  stoutly  rdtcratod  assertion 

Vrself      -nhen   she  declared  that   it   was  only  one 
.lluslration  of  the  lengths  to  which  ignorant  and  Z 


AN  UNFORTUNATE  AFFAIR 


247 


picious  foreigners  would  go,  her  listeners  agreed  that 
she  must  indeed  have  much  with  which  to  contend  in 
practising  her  profession  among  such  a  class  of  people 
as  were  employed  upon  the  project. 

The  only  persra  who  did  not  laugh,  beside  the 
countrymen  of  the  two  Italians,  was  Dan  Treu.  He 
made  no  comment  when  he  hep.rd  the  tale,  but  he  sat 
for  a  long  time  on  the  comer  of  the  White  Elephant 'a 
billiard  table,  holding  a  cigarette  which  he  forgot  to 
smoke. 


H 


;  !' 


ii 


*i-, 
»i**ii 


■  i  1 


XXI 

Turning  a  Corner 

ih.^'^''  r  ®™'''  ""^  °""^''  "^'-Pi--!  with  his  o-m 
thoughts,  he  was  not  sleeping  well  ajid  all  foo,t  t.!,^ 

d.d  not  afford  h,m  the  nsual  pleasure.     These  svm„ 

-,  the  faet  M-^.l^tl-.^airnr^r^sr^- 
«eeed«l  the  amount  i„  ,he  trea.surj._>"  th  „,,  reli'  f  ! 
s.gh,-,„,erest  in  ,he  great  Symes  Irriga  I  Pr„ I"? 
l.av,ng  seemed  suddenly  to  lag  i„  finandal  °„,  r 

written    "but  TT"!"  ''"  '""'"'■•  ""'  P"-™"'".  had 
wriuen,      but  it  looks  to  me  as  tJm.irr],  r*     -^  . 

giving  us  the  frostv  mitt      Th  "        '^'^^  ''^^ 

1  r^\      ■  "'^"^-^   "'"t-      iliey  won  t  even  listen 

I  can  t  raise  a  dollar  nmon,.  the  stockh,.!,lers  or    dl" 
a    bond.      Could    anybody   have   been    I  I?-        fu 
proposition?"  l^nocking  the 

Symes  had  written  back— 

"Ridiculous!      Who   would   knock?     I   have   no 

And  desperate  was  the  word  when  Symes    ontem 
pWed  so,ng  into  his  own  pocket  for  moTey  to  Se' 
wo  u    ",f '•"-"°"'=y  "hi,  i,  he  had  told  himseirhe 
wouM  salt  away  against  that  rainy  day  with  whieh 
■  e  had  become  all  too  familiar 

Sj-mes's  private  bank  account  had  grown  to  ouife 
a  respectable  sum  ,i„ce  that  memorablo  moving  wh  n 
he  had  received  worxi  ,h.;  Ms  baianeewaa  in  tltd 


TURNING  A  CORNER 


249 


If  he  was  given  a  confidential  discount  upon  machinery 
for  which  he  charged  the  company  full  price,  was  he 
not  entitled  to  the  difference  ?  If  he  received  a  modest 
revenue  from  his  manipulation  of  the  commissary,  and 
the  hospital  contract  contributed  its  mite,  was  it  not 
all  in  the  game?  Wasn't  it  done  every  day  by  men 
in  similar  positions  and  as  honest  as  himself?  It  was 
legitimate  enough,  certainly,  and,  if  he  did  not  men- 
tion it,  it  ^■.•;^s  l)ecause  it  was  his  own  affair. 

The  longer  and  harder  Symes  wa]l<ed  the  floor  the 
more  he  realized  that  pavday  must  be  met.  Labor  was 
not  an  account  which  could  wait.  Nothing  would  so 
arouse  suspicion  and  hurt  his  credit  as  a  dilatorj-  pay- 
day. Local  merchanls  would  come  down  upon  him 
like  a  thousand  of  brick  for  the  settlement  of  the 
large  accounts  Avhich  at  the  present  moment  they 
were  rather  proud  of  his  owing. 

The  impression  was  genera)  that  the  affairs  of  the 
Symes  Irrigation  Company  were  entirely  satisfactory, 
and  Symes 's  credit  had  only  been  limited  by  the  local 
merchants'  own  credit. 

Heretofore  the  treasury'  had  been  replenished 
through  the  activities  of  :\Iudge,  but  it  was  now  dis- 
turbingly low  and  payday  was  close,  while  instead  of 
the  expected  check  from  the  promoter  came  his 
disquieting  letter. 

".Mudge  is  losin'  his  grip;  he's  gettin'  timid," 
Sj-raes  Ihoicrht  irritably.  "I  may  hav3  to  go  back 
myself  and  raise  the  wind."  His  success  with  J.  Cil- 
lins  Prescott  had  given  him  added  confidence  in  his 
abilities  along  this  line. 

The  es,tate  which  Prescott  represented  were  now 
the  largest  bondholders  and  at  the  time  of  the  pur- 
chase  Sxtisps  h."^*]  p^n»'t!p.'^ 


250 


THE   LADY  DOC 


"If  we  can  just  grot  this  crowd  in  deep  enough 

they  won't  dare  lay  down  if  we  got  in  a  hoh^'ThoTvo 

got^to  see  the  proposition  through  to  save  thomselves." 

yts,     Mudge  had  agreed  doubtfullv,"  but  you 

iHt  in  the  dolu-ate  art  of  handling  capital:  "You  can't 
force  or  crowd  'em,  for  once  they  get  their  necks  b  w  d 
then  d  soonr.r  drop  their  pile  than  give  an  inch." 

ihe  question  which  8ymes  was  now  trying  to  de- 
cide  was  wnether  it  was  better  to  n.eet  pavdav  tvith  his 
own  nioney  and  trust  Mudge  to  raise  suffideJt  to  rein 
burse  hinz  and  meet  the  next  payday  or  to  bare  " 
-tuat.on  to  the  stock  and  bondholders  and  make  an 
imperative  demand  for  funds. 

^^  the  end  Symes-s  own  money  met  the  payroll  and 

the  sensa  ,on  of  checking  it  out  was  much  like  partin' 

th  lus  heart's  blood.    Though  it  was  a  relief  To  t"l 

th-r"  fh""  ''''  '^'^  ^^^  ^^^^  ^«  -"^d  continue 
to  shine  in  the  community  for  another  month  as  its 

one  large,  luminous  star,  it  also  brought  the  cold  p 

spiration  out  on  him  when  he  woke  up  in  tb   nfit 

and  remembered  where  thi.  noble  act  had  placed  him 

He  was  worse  than  penniless  if  Mudge  coufd  not  rl. 

In  the  days  which  followed,  the  .  ircles  deepened 
beneath  his  eyes,  his  high  color  faded  and  MmL  e' 

InZil  *'"^'  '^"'■^^"'^^  *«^«^^1  another 

P...^  dax  there  wore  moments  when  Symes  felt  that  his 

overtaxed  nen-es  nearly  had  reached  their  limit    Tho 

^  as  no  rest  or  solace  for  him  in  his  home,  for  whl 

Augusta  was  not  away  with  Dr.  Harpe  the  laUer  was 

os^;     Iir'"'    "■";  ''  ''^  ^^^'^ton'jangHngTn  ; 
clostt.    He  came  and  went  beneath  the  cold  evPs  of  the 


TURNING  A  CORNER 


251 


one  and  the  half-oontemptuous  {jlanccs  of  the  other, 
like,  as  lie  told  himself,  a  necessary  but  objectionable 
boarder. 

lie  no  loni^'er  found  diversion  in  s  ni-rhtly  game 
of  **slou^'-h"  in  the  card  room  of  the  'I'erriberry  House, 
for  they  became  only  oceasiuus  to  r.-mind  him  tliat  he 
owed  his  fellow-plnyers  more  than  he  eould  ever  hope 
to  pay  if  Mudfre  iliil  not  dispose  ol  more  bonds  <(uiekly 
or  the  stockholders  did  not  "come  throuf,'h,"  as  he 
I>hrased  it.  He  knew  fairly  well  the  financial  resources 
of  those  v.honi  he  had  favored  with  his  liberal  patron- 
age and  realized  that  they  were  doomed  to  go  down 
with  him  to  that  limbo  provided  for  the  over-sanguine 
and  the  over-trusting. 

At  last  the  black  day  came  when  the  treasury  could 
not  meet  the  smallest  bills.  Delay  Avas  no  longer  pos- 
sible, lie  must  i)lay  his  last  card.  An  imperative 
call  must  be  made  upon  the  stockholders  and  Syraes 
telegraphed  kludge  to  this  effect. 

Symes  dreaded  the  reply,  yet  he  tried  to  bolster 
his  courage  with  the  argument  which  had  seemed  so 
potent  at  the  time  he  used  it,  namely,  that  they  were 
all  in  too  deep  to  x?fuse  aid  at  this  crisis.  Symes 
imagined  that  he  could  almost  see  himself  growing  old 
in  the  hours  of  suspense  which  followed  the  sending 
of  the  telegram. 

Symes 's  hand  shook  noticeably  when  he  took  the 
yellow  sheet  from  the  operator  who  delivered  it  in 
person.    The  message  read: 


Turned  down  cold.     Something  wrong. 


Letter  follows. 

MUDGE 


Sjines's  towering  figure  seemed  to  crumple  in  the 


J' 
^  - 


t 

r     T 


ffl 


V'AA^y.C-     CAAU4A  I 


in 


252 


THK   LADY   DUC 


Ahe  Tutfs  t.)  whom  he  owed  $2500  for  hav  -md 
gra.n  waved  a  „.nal  hand  as  he  passed  the  do^r 
How  goes  it? "he  called 

';Great ! "  and  the  iMu^stful  reply  sickened  him. 

orta^— when  he  was  ruined.' 

It  wa.s   the  sentence   "Somethinij  wron;;"   which 
gave  Symes  that  weak  feelin.^  i„  his  knees.     To  wha 
did  Mud...  relV,,  to  the  stock  and  bondholders  or  t" 
he  pro,.ct  and  himseir?     Must  he  ,n  .....ut  for  U. 
lour  days  whuh  must  intervene  before  a  letter  coul  i 

-achlum  with  that  sinkin,  sensation  in  th,.,>t 
stomach,  that  curious  limpness  of  his  spine  > 

He  lived  through  it  .somehow  without   betiavin.^ 
hm.sd^  an.   when  Mudge's  letter  came  it  read  in  p'art^ 

from    sTl      i7''  '■'"''''""  '^'  ^^-^^'•^•^•^^«"  «f  ^'""'Is 
from   .stuekhoders   is   all    ri.ht   only   it   don't   work 

^^hen  I  called  a  meeting  and  suggested  that  thev  ra  se 
more  money  among  themselves  to  relieve  the  presen 
:TZZr'-'  their  interest,  they  cut^^^::;; 
"That  Fly-trap  King  of  yours  .said,  'If  that's  all 

to  hell  out  of  here  because  I,  for  one.  don't  propose! 
put  another  cent  into  the  proposition-" MvWie 
*Von  t  Let  :\re. "  '  " 

•  The  air  was  .so  chilly  I  oould  see  my  own  breath 
and  my  las    wmter's  chilblains  began  to  hurt. 

.ttitnl  •'''r'°''  ^  ''"''  '^  '^'''''  ^mderstand  vour 
attitude  m  th.s  matter.  We've  got  to  raise  this  m^n  y 
to  save  ourselves.  The  proposition  is  ..  good  i  i^ 
ever  was.'  ^         *"*  " 

"  'We  don't  doubt  that.'  says  Prescott  in  that  in- 
fe^ally  nu.et  way  of  his  that  makes  your  ears  t  ngle 
and  a  gnn  like  a  slice  of  watermelon  w...f T^   ' 


TURNING  A  CORNER 


ftSS 


"I  tril  you,  Synics,  somethiiif,'  or  somebody  has 
quceml  us  lu're  und  if  you  can  find  out  who  or  what 
it  is  you  can  do  more  than  I've  Ijt'eu  a])lc  to  do. 
Haven't  you  {;ot  some  powerful  enemy?  Is  there  any 
weak  spot  in  the  proposition.'  Rai.-k  youi  jrains  and 
let  me  know  the  result. 

"These  fellows  don't  s.'em  worried  and  that's  the 
strange  part  of  it,  for  I  know  that  some  of  them  have 
got  in  a  whole  lot  more  than  they  ean  alTord  to  lose. 

"  Whatever '.s  at  the  bottimi  of  it,  it's  mighty  effec- 
tive, for  I'm  up  against  a  blank  wall.  I've  exhausted 
every  resource  atid  I  can't  raise  a  dollar.  If  only  we 
dared  advertise  the  land  and  get  some  purchasers  to 
make  part  payments  down  it  would  keep  things  mov- 
ing for  a  while,  but  I  suppose  this  is  out  of  the 
question." 

Was  it?  S^Tnes  laid  the  letter  down.  It  was 
against  the  law  to  sell  land  before  the  water  was 
actually  upon  it,  but  was  it  out  of  the  (piestion? 

In  his  desperation  Symes  decided  that  it  was  not. 
Casually  imparting  the  information  to  the  Crow- 
heart  Courier  that  he  was  going  out  to  meet  a  party 
of  millionaires  who  were  anxious  to  invest,  Symes 
packed  his  suitcase  and  arrived  in  the  State  Capital 
as  soon  as  an  express  train  could  get  him  there. 

When  he  appeared  before  the  State  Land  Board 
the  arguments  he  used  to  that  body  never  were  made 
public,  but  they  were  sutfieiently  convincing  to  enable 
him  to  send  a  guarded  telegram  to  Mudge  that  night 
telling  him  to  prepare  additional  literature  and  com- 
mence a  campaign  of  advertisement.  Also  to  arrange 
with  the  railroad  for  a  Tlomeseekers'  Excursion  at  as 
early  a  date  as  possible. 

iiiu   icicgraui  rentorea  rutidge  s  iaith  in  symes. 


1=1 


Hoi 


Tin:   LADY   DOC 


revived  his  waiiint,'  enthusiasm  and  eoura^-o.  Ho  com- 
posed  a  pamphlet  f-.r  ilistril)ution  amon-  Eastern  and 
Middle  W.'st  farnu.rs,  from  wlndi  he  (Rioted  extracts 
to  his  wife  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  awakening  her 
ior  that  purpose. 

"Extend  a  hand  to  Xature  and  slie  meets  you  with 
outstretehed  arms!  Tiekle  the  soil  and  it  lau-hs 
gold ! "  "^ 

"Wouldn't  that  start  a  man-milliner  to  raisin^ 
alfalfa?"  demanded  Mudge  upon  sueh  oceasions. 

"Where  the  elouds  never  lower  and  the  sun  shines 
always.  AVhere  the  perfumed  zephvrs  fan  the  cheeks 
of  men  and  hrothei-s.  The  Perfect  Climate  found  at 
last!  Crowheart  the  Cem  of  the  Roekies!  within 
easy  reach.  Buy  a  ticket  f.n-  $20.50  and  breath  the 
Ehxir  of  Life  while  you  look  over  our  unequalled 
proposition." 

"That  ought  to  catch  all  the  lungers  in  the  world  " 
averred  kludge. 

That  the  promoter's  confidence  in  the  merits  of  his 
pamphlet  was  justified  was  soon  evidenced  by  the 
flood  of  inquiries  and  re/iuests  for  additional  infor- 
mation which  came  by  mail  while  his  office  became  a 
mecca  for  the  restless  and  the  "land  hungry"  who 
read  his  vivid  description  of  the  great  Sj-mes  irriga- 
tion project  which  was  making  the  dosert  bloom  like 
the  rose. 

They  came  in  droves  to  ask  questions  and  to  stare 
at  the  twenty-pound  beet  which  sat  conspicuously 
upon  Mudge's  desk  and  their  jaws  dropped  when  he 
explained  carelessly — 

"A  runt  from  under  the  Mormon  ditch;  wo  raise 
bigger  on  our  land." 

They  studied  the  map  of  the  neatly  plotted  town- 


TniMNG  A  (  ORNP:il 


255 


site  of  Symes  with  its  substantial  hank  buihliufr,  its 
park,  its  buuhv;  ids,  its  public  school  buikliug  a  id 
band-stand. 

"That's  poin '  to  be  Konu;  town,''  Muii^ri'  told  eafh 
with  a  ('«)nfident  inl  air,  "and  yni've  pot  a  chance  to 
make  something  if  y<tu  pubblc  \ip  a  citrncr  lot  or  two 
before  pric(  s  soar,  (^uick  turns  while  the  boom  is  on 
is  the  way  to  do  it  in  the  West." 

Mndpe  btlicved  all  that  he  said,  because  he  be- 
li"Vod  in  Synies ;  that  is,  he  was  convinced  that  all 
would  he  as  he  r''pr(\s<'nt(;d  as  so'  n  as  Symes  could  be 
provided  with  money  to  eomplett?  the  project,  and  if 
he  permitted  his  imagination  to  take  liberties  with 
the  truth,  it  was  soli-ly  because  he  felt  that  the  end 
.justified  the  means.  He  assured  himself  that  all  would 
be  forpotten  and  forpiveii  in  the  ult'uate  success  of 
the  enterprise  and  so  t:reat  Wi!s  his  faith  in  it  and  its 
efficient  niinapem*  t  t  at  his  own  money  i>aid  for  the 
pamphlets  and  the  haif-pa|i;e  newspaper  advertise- 
ments which  told  the  worl  of  the  Ilomeseekers'  Ex- 
cursion to  the  great  Symes  Irrigation  Project  where 
the  desert  was  blooming  like  the  rose.  If  at  times  there 
came  to  him,  as  there  did  to  Symes,  chiiiing  thoughts 
of  the  exact  meaning  of  failure  should  their  plans  mis- 
carry, hrt  did  not  allow  them  to  long  dampen  his  ardor. 

"We'll  put  it  through  somehow!"  he  declared 
vehemently.  "There'll  be  a  trainload  of  these  Home- 
seekers,  and,  out  if  a  bunch  like  that,  surely  some  of 
\m  will  stick  even  if  it  isn't — well — not  quit4?  exactly 
in  the  shape  they  expect  to  find  it.  They'll  see  the 
merits  of  the  proposition  and  make  allowances  for  my 
enthusiasm ;  and  if  we  can  work  this  once  we  can  work 
it  again."    Madge  insisted  to  himself  resolutely,  "I'm 


2oG 


TIIK    I.ADV   DOC 


a(T..rd  to  be  idontifiod  with  failures  and  wo  11  put  this 
thi.it'  throuKh  if  S.  H.  Mndpe  jjoos  broke  irvuu^." 

Tho  sto(>k  and  lK)n.lhol(lorH  had  soinothinV  ,>f  tho 
attitude   of   bias.'   sportators   at   a   circus,    regarding 
•Miid^M.-.s  sensational  .'tVorts  calmly,  without  api)lause 
•T  protest.     A  curious  attitude,  Mudpe  thou-ht     for 
persons  so   vitally  co..e,.rne.l.  and   there  were  times 
after  a  chan.-c  meeting'  with   I'resctt,   for  instance' 
when  Mudcre  wondere.l  if  they  reallv  were  as  in<liffer^ 
ent  as  they  seemed.     That  Preseott  had  an  anuizin- 
knowied^'c  of  the  situation   for  one  in  a  position  to 
know  so  little  was  evidcn.-ed  by  an  occa-sioiial  pertinent 
comment.    But  Mud^o.  wjus  too  bu.sy  petting  his  Home- 
seekers  in  line  to  attempt  the  solution  of  anv  mys- 
teries on  the  side. 

In    Crowheart    the    cominjr    excursion    of    Ihmw- 
seekers  was  the  chief  theme.     Its  citiz,>ns  were  elated 
at  the  wide  publi.-ity  which  the  (V.mpanv's  advertisin- 
campaitrn  was  ^'ivingr  to  the  town,  and  increa.sed  defer^ 
ence  to  Symes  was  the  result,  for  the  merchants  of 
Crowheart  made  no  .secret  of  the  fact  amon^^  themselves 
that    without    the   payroll    of   the    Symes    Irrijration 
1  roject  real  money  would  be  uncommonly  .scarce   and 
should  the  project  fail-the  remote  possibllitv  made 
them  shudder.     Cradually  it  ha.l  dawned  upon  these 
venturesome  pione<'rs  from  "way  back  East  in  \e- 
bra-ska"  that  the  surroundinc:  country  had  few  if  anv 
resources  and  without  the  openin-  of  fresh  territor'v 
Crowheart's  future  was  one  they  preferred  not   to 
contemplate. 

If  they  wondered  somewhat  at  the  ela.stieity  of  the 
law  Symes's  ability  to  stretch  it  only  demonstrated 
still  further  his  power,  hi.«,  ability  to  bend  men  and 
things  to  his  iron  M-ill,  and  their  awe  of  him  increased 


TrRMNG  A  (ORNKR 


i57 


prnportioruilely.  To  the  isolatod  rominunity  of 
ohst'urf  persons  Symos  s^'fiiu'd  vtTy  nearly  omnipotent. 
'I'liey  had  no  eriticisni  to  make  of  the  hivv's  adaptabil- 
ity to  Symes's  needs;  it  was  enou!,'h  for  them  that 
(Vowheart  was  in  tlie  linieli^fht  an<l  the  intlux  of  set- 
tlers meant  their  individual   i)r()sperify. 

Tt  soon  heciune  obvious  from  the  sal<"  of  exeursidii 
tieUets  that  the  'i'erriberr>'  House  would  not  be  able 
to  aeeomniodate  the  Iloineseekers. 

"Not  a  earload  but  a  traiidoad!"  said  Symes  jubi- 
lantly to  the  editor  of  the  CJrowheart  Courier,  and 
Sylvester  dashed  olT  a  double  leaded  plea  to  the  first 
families  of  Crowheart  to  "throw  open  their  homes" 
and  do  their  utmost  to  make  the  stran^^ers  feel  that 
th(\v  woidd  be  reeeive<l  upon  terms  of  e^iuality  and  (ind 
a  weleomo  in  their  midst. 

Crowheart 's  citizens  responded  maffnificentiy  to 
the  appeal.  The  Percy  Parrotts  threw  open  their 
three-roomed  residence  and  made  arratijrements  to 
sleep  in  the  hay,  while  their  self-sacrificinij  example 
was  (|uickly  followed  by  others.  Neither  the  Cowboy 
Band  nor  the  neif^'hbors  knew  either  rest  or  sleep 
until  they  had  mastered  a  Sonsa  March,  while  Mrs. 
Tutts  showed  her  public  s-pirit  by  rehearsinj;  Crow- 
heart's  talented  amateurs  in  an  emergency  perform- 
ance of  the  "Lady  of  Lyons"  for  the  .strangers*  even- 
ing entertainment. 

Every  available  vehicle  was  engaged  by  Symes  to 
convey  the  excursionists  to  the  project  and  a  commit- 
tee chosen  to  meet  them  on  the  cinders  at  the  station, 
himself  to  greet  them  in  a  few  neat  words. 

"With  so  much  upon  his  mind,  so  many  responsibili- 
ties upon  his  shoulders,  it  is  small  wonder  that  the 
little  formality  of  payday  should  slip  by  without  beint? 
17 


258 


THE  LADY  DOC 


properly  observed.     When  it  was  called  to  his  atten- 
tion  Ins  explanation  sounded  reasonable  enough. 

"I'm  just  so  busy  now,  boys,  that  I  haven't  the 
time  to  attend  to  your  chocks.  But  your  money's  as 
safe  as  thouf,'h  it  was  in  the  Bank  of  En-land,  and  if 
you  '11  oblige  me  by  waiting  until  this  excursion  is  over 
I'll  greatly  appreciate  it." 

"Sure!"  they  replied  heartily,  and  indeed  it  was 
a  pleasure  to  do  Andy  P.  Ny,„,..s  a  favor  wh.n  he  asked 
It  m  his  big,  genial  voice.  "Take  your  time  Mr 
Symes,  we  are  in  no  rush."  In  his  magnetic  presence 
they  had  quite  forgotten  that  t!  I'v  were  in  a  rush- 
besides,  it  was  plain  that  he  had  more  than  one  man' 
should  be  expected  to  attend  to,  antl  no  one  dreamed 
that  a  dollar  dropped  in  the  treasury  w«uld  have 
echoed  hke  a  rock  falling  in  a  well. 

Like  JIudge,  Symes  wa.s  convinced  that  ont  of  a 
trainload  of  Ilomcseekers  some  of  them  woidd  "stick." 
The  inducement  to  do  so  y.-e-i  the  privilege  cf  the  first 
choice  of  the  160-acre  tracts-for  a  substantial  deposit 
But  those  who  did  not  stick?— those  who  were 
strongly  undei-  the    impression   that   the   water  was 
already  5ov.ing  through  the  ditch  or  that  it  was  so 
near  completion  that  it  would  do  so  shortlv— would 
they   be-irritated?     As  the   day   of  the   excursion 
approached  the  disquieting  thought  came  with  increas- 
ing frequency  to  Symes  that  they  ivould  l)c  -irritated 


XXII 

Crowheart's  First  Mlijder  Mystery 


The  postmasitor's  curt  "nothing''  was  like  a 
ju(l<,'e's  sentence  to  Essie  Tisdale,  for  it  meant  to  her 
the  end  of  things.  And  now  the  marriage  ceremony 
was  over.  She  looked  at  the  gold  band  upon  her  finger 
with  a  heavy,  sinking  heart.  She  must  wear  it  always, 
she  was  thinking,  to  reniind  her  that  she  had  sold 
herself  for  a  place  to  lay  her  head  and  thirty  thousand 
sheep. 

The  jocose  congratulations  of  the  burly  ,Justlce  of 
the  Peace  went  unanswered  and  her  eyes  swept  the 
smirking,  curious  faces  of  the  by.standers  without  rec- 
ognition.    She  heard  Dubois's  guttural  voice  saying--- 

"Go  there  to  ze  hotel,  my  dear,  and  get  your 
clothes.  Ze  wagon  is  at  ze  shop  for  repairs  and  there 
you  meet  me.  I've  got  to  get  back  to  ze  sheep  for 
awhile.    You  will  haf  good  rest  in  ze  hills." 

The  lonely  hills  with  Dubois  for  company!  A 
shiver  like  a  chill  passed  over  her.  Returning  to  the 
hotel  she  found  that  the  news  had  preceded  her,  for 
Mrs.  Terriberry  rushed  down  upon  her  with  out- 
stretched arms. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  last  night,  Essie?" 

The  girl  withdrew  herself  from  the  plump  embrace. 

"I  didn't  know  it  last  night." 

"T  declare,  if  this  isn't  romantic!"  Mrs.  Terri- 
berry fanned  her.self  vigorously  with  her  apron. 
"You'll  be  the  richest  woman  around  here  v. hen 
Dubois  dies."  She  added  irrelevantly,  "Aad  I've 
been  like  a  mother  to  von.  Ess." 


.1  '■ 
i. 


f 

I 

,1 

'I 


258 


il60 


THE   LADV  DOC 


"Why  don't  you  and  Dubois  stay  in  tow«  •  few 
flays  and  make  us  a  visit?"  Mr.  Tcrriberrv'a  voice 
ranj?^  with  cordial  hospitality. 

The  j,nrl  looked  at  him  with  embarrassing  steadi- 
ness The  thirty  thousand  sh.rp  were  doing  their 
work  well.  ° 

"We  are  going  to  the  eamp  to-day,"  she  answered 
and  turned  upstairs. 

When  her  tVw  belongings  were  folded  in  a  canvas 
telescope  she  looked  about  her  with  the  panic- 
s  ncken  feel,ng  of  one  about  to  take  a  desperate,  final 
plunge.  Ihe  tiny,  cheaply  furnished  room  had  been 
her  home,  her  refuge,  and  she  was  leaving  if,  for  she 
knew  not  what. 

Every  scTateh  upon  the  rickety  washstan.l  was 
famn.ar  to  her  and  she  knew  exactly  how  to  dodge 
he  waves  in  the  mirror  which  distorted  her  reflection 
I- hcrously.  _  .She  was  leaving  behind  her  the  shabby 
Ul  shppers  in  which  she  had  danced  so  happilv-was 
It  centuries  ago?  And  the  pink  frock  hung  limp  ,nd 
abandoned  on  its  nail. 

She  walked  to  the  window  where  she  had  sat  so 
of  en  plannn,>g  new  pleasures,  happy  because  she  wa. 
>oung  and  n.erry,  and  her  heart  brimmed  with  wannth 
and  aflection  for  all  whom  she  knew,  and  she  looked 
a    the  purple  lulls  which  shut  out  that  wonderful  East 
"f  w  ueh  she  had  dreamed  of  s-eing  some  time  with 
•somebody  that  she  loved.     She  turned  from  the  win 
clow  With  a  lump  i„  her  aching  throat  and  looked  at 
h    flat  pillow  which  had  been  so  often  damp  of  late 
ysnii  her  tears. 

"It's  over,"  she  whispere<l  brr.kenly  as  she  picked 

P  the  awkward  telescope,  "evervthing  is  ended  that  I 

planned  and  hoped  for.     There's  no  happiness  or  love 


CROVVHEART'S  MURDER  MYSTERY  261 


or  iaujjhter  in  the  long,  hot  alkali  roud  ahead  of  me. 
Just  endurance — only  duty." 

She  closed  the  door  behind  her,  the  door  that 
always  had  to  be  slammed  to  make  it  fasten,  and, 
drooping  beneath  the  weight  of  the  heavy  bag  trudged 
d'  wn  the  street  toward  the  blacksmith  shop. 

It  was  loss  than  an  hour  after  the  sheep-wagon  had 
rumbled  out  of  town  with  Dubois  slapping  the  rein  ; 
loosely  upon  the  backs  of  the  shambling  grays  that  the 
telegraph  operator,  hatless,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  bumped 
into  Dr.  Ilarpe  as  she  was  leaving  the  hotel. 
"Have  they  gone?" 

"Who?" — but  her  eyes  looked  frightened. 
"Essie  and  old  Dubois." 
"Ages  ago." 

"I'm  sorrj',  1  hoped  I'd  catch  her;  perhaps  I've 
something  she  ought  to  have." 

Dr.  Ilarpe  looked  at  the  telegram.  Perhaps  it  was 
something  she  ought  to  have  also. 

"Look  here,  I've  got  a  call  to  make  over  in  the 
direction  of  Dubois's  sheep  camp  and  I'll  take  the 
message. ' ' 

"Will  you,  Doc?"  he  said  in  relief.    "That's  good 
of  you."     He  locked  at  the  telegram  and  hesitated. 
"I  didn't  stop  for  an  envelope." 
"Oh,  I  won't  read  it." 

'I  know  that.  Doc,"  he  jussured  her.    "But " 

She  was  already  hastening  away  for  the  purpose. 
"Whew!"    Dr.  Ilarpe  threw  open  her  coat  In  sud- 
den warmth.    "I'm  glad  she  didn't  get  iMti" 
She  re-read  the  mcssar  o — 


«i  !  ■ 


Havo  licard  notliini;  froi.i  you.     Am  anxious.     Ta  all  well 
with  you?     Telejfraph  anss\er  to  addrpsa  given   in  letter. 


i;r 


^^  ':i. 


262 


THE  LADY   DOC 


Dr.  Ilarpe  tore  the  telegram  in  bits  and  watehed 
the  pieces  Hutter  into  the  waste-basket. 

"The  Old  Boy  certainly  looks  after  his  own, 
Ilarpe,"  she  murmured,  but  her  fingertips  were  cold 
with  nervousness. 

Dr.  Ilarpe  had  paid  her  professional  visit  and  her 
horses  were  draprginr^  the  buprgy  through  the  deep 
sand  in  the  direction  of  Dubois  \s  sheep-raneh,  when 
she  contemplated  staying  for  supper  and  driving  hone 
m  t.ic  cooler  c.vciiui^.  The  smail  matter  of  beiLig 
unwelcome  never  deterred  Dr.  Ilarpe  when  she  was 
hungry  and  could  save  expense. 

There  was  no  one  in  sight  nor  human  habitation 
within  her  range  of  vision ;  the  slow  drag  was  monot- 
onous; the  flies  were  bad  and  the  heat  was  great;  she 
was  both  drowsy  and  irritable. 

"Lord!  how  I  hate  the  smell  of  sheep!"  she  said 
fretfully  as  the  odor  rose  strong  from  a  bedding- 
ground,  "and  their  everlastin'  bleat  Avould  set  me 
crazy.  Gosh!  it's  hot!  Wondei-  how  sh(-ll  enjoy 
spending  her  honeymoon  about  forty  feet  from  Du- 
bois's shearing-pens,"  .she  sniggered. '  "Well,  i,,,  mat- 
ter what  eomes  up  in  the  future,  I've  settled  her; 
she's  out  ef  the  way  for  good  and  ail,  and  I  've  kept  my 
Avord— -she'll  never  marry  Ogden  Van  Lennop!" 

Yet  she  was  aware  that  there  was  hollowness  in  her 
triumph— that  it  was  marred  by  a  nameless  fear  which 
she  refused  to  admit.  Van  Lennop  was  still  to  be 
reckoned  with.  His  telegram  had  reminded  her  for- 
cibly of  that. 

The  muffled  sound  of  galloping  hoofs  in  the  sand 
caused  her  to  rai.se  her  chin  from  her  che.st  and  her 
mind  became  instantly  alert.  It  would  be  a  relief  to 
exchange  a  word  with  some  one,  she  thought,  and 


CltOWHEART'S  M  '  RDER  MYSTERY  Jio3 


wondorr'd  vaguely  at  the  swiftness  of  the  .cfait  tipon 
so  hot ,.  day.  She  ctnild  hear  the  labored  l)reathing  of 
Ml,,  hom's  now  r.nd  suddenly  two  riders  flashed  into 
sight  around  th>  eurve  of  the  hill.  Instantly  they 
pulleu  their  horses  on  their  haunches  and  swun.'?  them 
with  rein  and  spur  into  the  deep  washout  in  the  gulch 
whi're  the  jjiant  sacrel)rush  hid  them. 

It  wa.s  so  quiekly  done  that  Dr.  Ilarpe  had  only  a 
triimpse  of  lia.shinj;  eyes,  swai;thy  skins,  and  close- 
cropped,  coal-black  hair,  but  the  glimpse  was  sufficient 
to  caiise  her  to  say  to  herself — 

"Breeds — and  a  lonj;  way  from  the  nome  range," 
she  added  muijingly.  "Looks  like  a  get-away — what 
honest  men  would  be  smokin'  up  their  horses  in  heat 
like  this?" 

A  barking  sheep-dog  ran  up  the  road  to  greet  her 
wh(  .1,  after  another  hour  of  plodding,  she  finally 
reached  the  ridge  where  she  could  lool.  down  upon  the 
alkali  flat  where  Dixbois  had  built  his  shearing-pens, 
his  log  store  hou.se  and  his  cabin  of  one  room. 

"No  smoke.  Darned  inhospitable,  I  say,  when  it's 
near  supper  time  and  company  eomin'." 

There  wa.s  no  sign  of  life  anywhere  save  the  sheep- 
dog leaping  at  her  buL^^y  wheels. 

"Can  it  be  the  turtle-doves  don't  know  it's  time  to 
eat?  "she  sneered.    "Getep!" 

The  grating  of  the  wheels  against  the  brake  as  she 
drove  d»wn  the  steep  pitch  brought  no  one  around 
the  corner  of  the  house,  which  faced  the  trickling 
stream  that  made  the  ranch  a  valuable  one. 

They  were  .somewhere  about,  she  was  sure  of  that, 
for  she  had  recognized  gray  horse-  feeding  some  dis- 
tance away  and  the  sheep-wagon  in  which  they  had 
left  town  was  drawn  up  close  to  the  house.    She  tied 


f  i. 


i  1 


:  I 


H 


264. 


THK   LADY   DOC 


her  fagfr».,l  team  to  the  slirarinp-pons  and  sanntorrd 
toward  the  Ixuiso,  hut  Mith  s...n.thin-  of  unccTtaintv 
in  her  fac-o.  There  Mas  a  ,.h.nee  that  she  had  heei, 
seen  and  the  new  Mrs.  Dubois  di  1  not  n.ean  to  re- 
oeive  her. 

A  faint,  quavering  moan  stopped  lier  at  the  corner 
of  the  house.  She  listened.  It  was  repeated.  She 
stepped  swiftly  to  the  doorway  and  looked  inside, 
ihe  g,rl  was  lyin-  in  a  limp  lieap  on  the  hunk,  her 
iaee,  her  hands  and  wrists,  jier  white  shirtwairt 
smeared  hornbly  with  hlo,,,!,  while  an  nnfor^^-ttable 
Jook  of  terror  and  repulsion  seemed  fn./.en  in  Iut 
eyes.     The  sigiit  startled  even  Dr.  Ilnrpe. 

"What's  tie  matter?     What's  happened?"    She 
shook  her  r.niphly  by  the  .shoul.ler,  for  the  half-uneon. 
scious  girl  seemed  about  to  faint.    "Where's  Dubois?" 
She  bent  her  head  to  catch  the  answer 
"Outside." 

Dr.  Harpe  was  not  gone  long,  but  returned  to  stand 
beside  the  bunk,  looking  down  upon  Essie  with  eyes 
that  HI  the  dimness  of  the  illy-Iit'hted  cabin  shone  with 
the  baleful  gleam  of  some  rapacious  feline 

"Y.m  did  a  good  job,  Ess;  he's  dead  as  a 
mackerel. 

The  answer  was  the  faint,  broken  moan  which  came 
and  went  with  her  breath. 

"I'll  go  to  town  for  help " 

^  The  girl  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  at  her  beseech- 

"Don't  leave  me  alone!" 
Dr.  Harpe  ignored  the  whispered  prayer 
^" Don't  touch  anything-leave  everything  just  as  it 
IS     she  said  curtly;  "it'll  be  better  for  you  " 

Before  she  imtied  her  t.am  at  the  shearing-pens  she 


CROWHEART'S  MURDER  MYSTERY  265 


walked  around  the  house  and  looked  once  more  at  the 
repulsive  object  lying  upon  a  dingy  quilt.  Death  had 
refused  Dubois  even  the  usual  gift  of  dignity.  Ills 
mouth  was  open,  and  his  eyes;  he  looked  even  more 
than  in  life  the  brute  and  the  miser. 

"Two  shot:;  and  each  made  a  bull's  eye.  One  in 
the  temple  and  another  for  lu'k.  Either  would  have 
killed  him." 

She  covered  his  face  with  a  corner  of  the  ".soogan" 
and  glanced  around.  The  short,  highly  polished  barrel 
of  a  Colt's  automatic  protruded  from  a  clump  of 
dwarf  cactus  some  few  feet  away.  She  swooped  swiftly 
down  upon  it  and  broke  it  open.  The  first  cartridge 
had  jammed  and  every  other  chamber  was  filled.  Dr. 
TIarpe  held  it  in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  regarding  it 
reflectively.  Then  she  took  her  thumb  nail  and  ex- 
tracted the  jammed  cartridge  and  shook  a  second  from 
the  chamber.  These  she  kept.  The  gun  she  threw 
from  her  with  all  her  strength. 

She  l(»st  no  time  in  urging  her  fagged  horses  up  the 
steep  hill  opposite  the  ranch  house  on  the  road  back 
to  Crowheart.  At  the  top  .she  let  them  pant  a  moment 
before  they  started  up  another  almost  as  steep. 

Dr.  ITarpe  removed  her  hat  and  lifted  her  moist 
hair  with  her  fngers.  The  sun  was  lowering,  the 
annoying  gnats  and  flies  were  beginning  to  r-ubside, 
it  soon  would  be  cool  and  pleasant.  Dr.  Ilarpe  looked 
back  at  the  peaceful  scene  in  the  flat  below — the  sheep- 
wagon  with  its  canvn  top.  the  square,  log  cabin,  the 
still  heap  beside  it — really  there  was  no  reason  why  she 
should  not  enjoy  excee  iinely  the  drive  hack  to  town. 

Out  of  the  hills  nehind  her  came  a  golden  voice  that 
had  the  carrj'ing  qualities  of  a  flute. 


m 


'li 


t:  1 

H 


266 


TIIK   LADV   DOC 


farcwoll  to  theo.  '  ' 

Tho  smih*  faded  from  hor  face 

"Tho    devil!"       She     chirped'    to    her    horses. 
Where  d  he  eonie  irom?" 

Those  of  Crouh,.arC.s  eitizens  who  yawned  at  8 
and  ret  red  at  8.:m  were  an,,....,  fro„.  their  pleful 
slumhen.  by  the  astounding,  news  that  Essie  Tis.lae 
had  shot  and  k.lled  old  Edouard  Dubois,  and  the  ry 
sau.e  day  t^hat  she  had  n.arrie.l  hin.  for  his  money 
As  a  result,  (Jrovvheart  was  astir  at  dawn,  bearin-^ 
every  ovulenee  of  a  sleepless  ni.ht  and  a  hasty  toilette^ 

J  h.s  was  the  town's  first  real  murder  mvsterv     To 
be  sure,  th.re  was  the  sheep-herder,  who  was  Vound 
^    h  hKs  throat  eut  and  his  ear  taken  for  a  souvenir; 
b.a  there  was  not  mueh  n.ystery  about  that,  because  h 
was  off  h.s  ranp:o  and  had  been  duly  warned.     Also 

ore  had  been  plain  Killings  over  eards  and  ladi 

•     the    c.anee    hall-,  .rprisin.^   sometimes,    but   only 

hr.eny  ,n  erest.n.-eertainly  never  anythiig  myster^ 

ous  and  thrilling  like  this.  ™ysteri- 

Sylvanus  Starr  in  that  semi-eonscious  state  midway 
betweeu   wakn,,  and   sleeping,   .imposed   a  headline 

brtkfis;.'""'  "  '''  "''•^^^^"  ^■^•^"^■^  '^''-t':'  «fter 

fh.'l'^  'n'"'  '"  ^^f'^'  ""  ^larriage  and  a  Murder"  read 
the  headhne  and  while  the  editor  made  no  definite 
charges,  he  declared  in  double-leaded  type  that  the 
County  should  spare  no  expense  to  brin Jthe  as^assL 
0  just.ee  re,arUicss  of  sc.,  and  the  phrlse  "tl"'  as 

W'  n^e'^V'  V'""'  '''''-'^  «°'^  -  '---'"> 

that  in  I  fe  n  r  :^J'  '^P  """'"'^"^  '^f  ^he  fact 
that  m  bfe  Dubois  had  not  been  regarded  as  either 

ihat  portion  of  Crowheart  which  was  pleased  to 


(  HOWHKAUT'SMIRDKR  MVSrF.UV    267 


speak  of  itself  as  the  "sano  and  ponscrvativc  clcincnt" 
cruicavorcd  to  suspend  sontenro  until  tlic  dt'puty- 
shcrifT  should  return  with  further  details,  but  even 
they  were  foreed  to  admit  thai,  from  the  meap;ro 
aeeount.  furnished  liy  Dr.  Ilarpe,  "it  certainly  looked 
bad  for  Essie  Tisdal.'." 

Dan  Treu  and  the  enroner,  who  was  also  the  local 
baker,  started  iimiiediately  for  the  sheep-ranch,  and 
Dr.  Ilarpe  aecompanied  them.  "Ess  looked  about 
'all  in,'  "  she  said  in  e.xplanatinn. 

They  found  the  f:irl  and  the  Dafro  Duke  waiting 
by  the  tire  wliieh  he  had  built  outside  the  eabin. 
Huddled  in  a  blanket  wliieh  he  had  thrown  about  her 
sho;dders  she  sat  starin.tr  into  the  fire  with  the  shocked 
look  which  never  left  her  eyes.  Utter,  utter  wearin'-ss 
was  in  her  flower-like  face  and  over  and  over  again 
her  subconsciousness  was  askinj,'  her  tired  brain, 
"What  ne.xt?  AVhat  horrible  thing  can  happen  to  me 
next?  What  is  there  left  to  happen?"  She  felt 
crushed  in  spirit,  unresentful  even  of  Dr.  Ilarpe 's 
presence,  for  she  felt  herself  at  the  mercy  of  whoso- 
ever chose  to  be  merciless.  But  the  Dago  Duke  was 
unhampered  by  any  such  feelings.  lie  commented 
loudly  as  Dr.  Ilarpe  swaggered  toward  them  with  her 
hands  thrust  deep  in  the  pockets  of  the  man's  overcoat 
which  she  wore  on  chilly  drives — 

"Thf  jrhouls  are  arriving  early." 

"There's  another  word  as  ugly,"  Dr.  Ilarpe  re- 
torted significantly. 

"I  can't  imai^ine — unless  it's  quack," 

"Or  accompiie,"  she  s-uggested  with  a  sneer. 

Dan  Treu  frowned. 

With   the   surprising  tact   and  gentleness   which 


I' 
J, 

• 

2()H 


TilK   LADV   DOC 


hum  men  of  his  typo  somotim.'s  shn«-.  tlu>  .l..puty. 
shontr  dnnv  from  tho  ,Mrl  L.t  .story  of  ,i,.  nuTcler 

I  went  to  tlio  cr,.rk-(!oun  tho  trail  thcrc-to  .^ot 
some,  wator.  I  w.s  only  ...no  .,  .noment ;  I  wn.s  l.oml- 
-n.'  .loun-<|i,,pi„,.  ,vifh  tho  pnii-I  hrnni  tu.,  .shots 
-oloso  to^.thor.  I  thou.^ht  ho  was  .shonti,,,.  at  prairie 
do^'s-I  dul  m,t  hurrv.  \Vh.„  I  ,..„„.  haok-ho  was 
lym-m.arth,.  wa^rou.  it  was  h..rril.lo!  I  callod  ami 
callod.  Ho  was  (load.  Tho  hlood  was  runnin^r  ,vorv- 
wh.To  I  p.,t  a  (juilt  ami  .Ira-od  and  dra-od  until 
U^ot  lum  on  it  somohow.    I  .saw  no  ono.    I  hoard  no 

nor  .slon,h>r  hands  woro  clonoho.I  ti-htlv  and  she 
spoko  w.th  an  offort.  Th.-ro  was  siloneo  \vhon  she 
tin  shod,  lor  h,.r  story  soomod  oon.ploto;  thoro  .soomod 
nothing  more  that  she  conld  toll.  It  was  Dr.  Ilarpo 
who  askod —  ' 

"Rut  his  ?un-whoro's  his  irun  <!    Hos  always  kept 
a  .u'lin— I  vo  .soon  it— a  Colt's  automatic?" 
Tho  girl  shook  hor  lioad. 
"I  don't  know." 

voioo^^t".'';  ^"'^*7'';-^*  ''^^  ^ho  Da..o  Duko's  suave 
Ao.oo  that  a.skod  tho  .,nostion--' "you  saw  no  one- 
pa.ssod  no  on.  whilo  drivi,,,.  through  tho  hills?" 

hhe  lookod  at  him  stoadily. 

"I  saw  110  ono." 

His  eyelids  slowly  voilod  his  oye.s 

her^'^'Don'.'""  "'  ''"'■"    "'-^  ^"^^'"^  ^"^'"'^  ^^'•it^ted 

before  tWs?"  *""  ''''''''  '  ^''''''  ^''^^•^'  ^'^  ^  ^-«" 

-Lot's  look  for  that  gun,"  the  donuty  interrupted. 

With  the  aid  of  a  lantern  and  the  glare  of  a  huge 


CKOVVHKART'S  Ml'llDKU  >n  S  Tl  liV   UiVJ 


I 


sa^rbrusli  lire  th.-y  scarchfil  in  tlic  imiiKdiatc  vicinity 
lor  the  gun  and  iu  the  hope  of  finding  some  accidental 
clue. 

"We  can't  expect  to  do  much  till  morning."  the 
deputy  opined  a.s  with  hi.s  light  eIo.se  to  the  ground 
he  looked  for  some  strat,ge  footitrint  in  the  dust  of  th(! 
dooryard. 

It  wa.s  l)ehin(l  the  enhin  that  Dan  Treu  stooped 
(juickly  and  brought  the  lantern  elo.se  to  a  blurred  out- 
line in  a  bit  of  soft  earth  close  to  a  growth  of  cacttis. 
He  looked  at  it  long  and  intently  and  when  he  straight- 
ened liimself  liis  heavy,  rather  expressionless  face 
wore  a  puz/.led  look. 

"Come  here,"  he  called  finally  to  the  coroner,  lie 
pointed  to  the  indistinct  outline.  "AVhat  does  that 
look  like  to  you?" 

The  coroner  was  not  long  from  Ohio. 

"It  htoks  to  me  like  somebody  had  made  a  track  in 
his  stock  in'  feet." 

The  deputy  was  born  near  the  Rosebud  Agency. 

"D(H's  it?"  he  added.  "I  guess  we  won't  walk 
around  any  more  until  morning." 

The  track  was  a  moccasin  print  to  him. 

It  was  the  coroner  who  said  to  Dan  Treu  in  an 
undertone  as  they  sat  by  the  fire  waiting  for  tho 
daylight — 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  woman  act  like  Doc?  Bj 
CJosh!  did  you  ever  see  anybody  act  like  Doc?  She's 
enjoyin'  this— upon  my  soul  she  is!  She  makes  me 
think  of  a  half-starved  hunting  dog  that's  pulled  some- 
thin'  down  and  has  got  a  taste  of  blood." 

The  deputy  nodded  with  an  odd  smile. 

The  Dago  Duke  said  nothing.  But  he  seemed 
vastly  interested  in  watching  Dr.  Ilarpe.    He  observed 


i.a 


i  I- 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  TbSI  CHART  No    2; 


1.0 


I.I 


■-  !ilM 

3.6 


u 


140 


II  2.5 

I  2.2 

2.0 
1.8 


1.25 


1.4 


1.6 


_^  APPLIED  IM^GE     Inc 

■"*"•  ^53    East    Mam    Street 

~.^  -'ocnester     New    York  U609        USA 

' '16)    482  -  0^00  -  Phone 

"''S)    2B5  -   5989    -  To* 


270 


THE  LADY  DOC 


her  every  movement,  her  every  expressic  'i,  with  a  pur- 
poseful look  upon  his  face  which  was  new  to  it. 

They  found  the  gun  in  the  morninp:.  caught  in  a 
giant  sagebrush  where  it  hung  concealed  until  acci- 
dentally jarred  loose  by  no  less  a  person  than  Mr. 
Percy  Parrott,  who  had  arrived  early  to  give  his 
unsolicited  aid  to  the  deputy-sheriff. 

The  Colt's  automatic  was  easily  identified  as  Du- 
bois's gun,  and  two  shells   were  missing. 

"A  pretty  rough  piece  of  work,"  commented  Dr. 
Harpe  as  she  looked  at  the  empty  chamlx?rs. 

"As  raw  as  they  make  it,"  agreed  the  Dago  Duke 
for  once. 

"Don't  run  away,  Dago,"  said  the  sheriff,  "I  may 
want  you." 

"Run?— when  I  go  I'll  fly." 

All  the  town  turned  out  to  look  when  Dan  Treu 
drove  into  town  with  the  girl  sitting  bolt  upright  and 
very  white  upon  the  seat  beside  him. 

They  stopped  at  the  Terrioerry  House  and  her 
old  room  was  assigned  to  her,  bi'.t  all  the  gaping  crowd 
considered  her  a  prisoner. 


XXIII 


Symbs  Meets  the  IIomeseekebs 

Andy  P.  Symes  awoke  from  a  night  of  troubled 
dreams  with  the  impression  still  strong  upon  him  that 
he  was  the  exact  centre  of  a  typhoon  in  the  China 
Seas.    He  realized  gradually  that  the  house  was  alter- 
nately shivering  ard  rocking,  that  the  shade  of  the 
slightly  lowered  window  was  flapping  furiously,  that 
his  nose  and  throat  were  raw  from  the  tiny  particles 
of  dust  which  covered  the  counterpane  and  furniture, 
that  pebbles  were  striking  the  window-r  -nes  like  the 
bombardment  of  a  gattling  gun.    There  v.  as  a  wailmg 
and  shrieking  from   the  wires  which  anchored   his 
kitchen  flue,  a  rattling  and  banging  outside  which  con- 
veyed the  knowledge  that  the  sheet-iron  roof  on  his 
coal-house  was  loose,  while  a  clatter  from  the  street 
told  his  experienced  ears  that  some  one's  tin  garbage- 
can  was  passing.  ^ 
He  groaned.    This  was  the  day  the  Homeseekers 
Excursion  was  du(--^oming  to  view  the  land  "where 
the  perfumed  zephyrs  fanned  the  cheeks  of  men  and 
brothers!"    Coming  to  breathe  "the  Elixir  of  Life, 
while  tbey  inspected  that  portion  of  the  desert  which 
was  "blooming  like  the  rose !" 

Even  the  elements  were  against  him  it  seemed. 
Symes  shoved  up  the  shade  to  see  the  lovely  Pearl- 
ine  Starr,  with  her  head  tied  in  a  nubia,  fighting  her 
way  through  his  front  gate.  She  was  bearing  ahead  of 
her  some  garment  on  the  end  of  a  stick.  Mr.  Symes 
dressed  hastily  that  he  might  respond  to  her  knock. 
When  Mr.  Symes  opened  the  door  Miss  Starr  was 

«71 


3' ill 


272 


THE   LADY  DOC 


clinf^inj?,  breathless,  to  a  pillar  of  the  veranda  in  order 
to  keep  her  footing.  She  cast  down  her  eyes  as  she 
extended  her  offering. 

"Are  these  yours,  Mr.  SjTnes?  We  found  them 
around  a  sagebrush  in  the  backyard." 

"If  they  were,"  said  ;\Ir.  Symes  shortly,  "I'd  be 
in  bed.    They  look  like  Tuttses.'' 

The  air  was  filled  with  Hying  papers,  shingles, 
pans,  and  there  were  times  when  he  could  not  see 
across  the  street.  Alva  Jackson  was  in  his  corral  dis- 
tributing hay  among  his  ho'  es  from  a  sack  instead  of 
a  pitchfork.  The  Perfect  Climate!  Symes  watched 
Miss  Starr  dig  in  her  heels  and  (lt>part  lying  back 
horizontally  on  the  breeze.  Then  he  slammed  the  door, 
but  not  before  he  saw  Parrott's  coal-house  making  its 
way  toward  his  lot.  He  already  had  a  cellar-door  and 
a  chicken  coop  which  did  not  belong  to  him,  while 
a  "wash"  he  did  not  recognize  was  lodged  in  his  wood- 
pile of  jack-pine  and  ground-cedar  in  the  backyard. 

The  Ilomeseekei-s'  Excursion  arrived  at  last — hours 
late — delayed  by  the  worst  dust-stonn  in  months.  The 
committee  of  prominent  citizens  met  it  where  the 
cinder  platform  had  been  before  it  blew  off. 

The  excursionists  looked  through  the  car-windows 
to  see  members  of  the  Cowboy  Band  with  one  arm 
locked  around  the  frame-work  of  the  water-tank  and 
with  the  other  endeavoring  to  keep  divers  horns,  trom- 
bones and  flutes  in  their  month.  No  sound  reached  the 
ears  of  the  excursionists  owing  to  the  fact  that  they 
were  on  the  windward  side  of  the  band  and  the  stir- 
ring notes  of  "Hot  Time  in  the  Old  Town"  were 
going  the  other  way. 

Mr.  Symes's  neat  speech  of  welcome  was  literally 
blown  out  of  his  mouth,  so  he  contented  himself  with 


SYMES  MEETS  HOMESEEKERS      273 

shouting  a  warning  to  "look  out  for  his  hat"  in  the 
car  of  the  iirst  llomeseeker  to  venture  from  the  car, 
and  led  the  way  to  the  Terriberry  House. 

Crowheart  found  itself  in  the  position  of  the  boy 
at  the  double-ringed  circus  who  suffers  from  the  knowl- 
ed'-e  that  there  is  something  he  must  miss.  It  could 
not  give  its  undivided  attention  to  the  strangers  and 
at  the  same  time  attend  the  funeral  of  old  Edouard 
Dubois,  which  was  to  be  held  under  the  auspices  of  the 
beneficiary  society  of  which  he  had  been  a  member.  ^ 

To  extend  the  warm,  western  hand  of  fellowship 
to  the  Ilomeseekers  aiul  find  out  where  they  came 
from,  what  their  business  was,  and  how  much  money 
they  had  was  a  pleasure  to  which  the  citizens  of  Crow- 
heart  had  lung  looked  forward,  but  also  it  was  a  pleas- 
ure and  a  duty  to  walk  down  the  Main  street  in  white 
cotton  gloves  and  strange  habiliments,  following  the 
new  hearse.  The  lateness  of  the  train  had  made  it 
impossible  to  do  both. 

They  were  a  different  type,  these  Ilomeseekers, 
from  the  first  crop  of  penniless  adventurers  who 
had  settled  Crowheart.  being  chiefly  shrewd,  anxious- 
cyed  farmers  from  the  Middle  West  who  prided  them- 
selves upon  "not  owing  a  dollar  in  the  world"  and 
whose  modest  bank  accounts  represented  broiling  days 
in  the  hay  field  and  a  day's  work  before  dawn,  by  lan- 
tern lif^ht,  when  there  was  ice  to  chop  in  the  watering 
trough"  and  racks  to  be  filled  for  the  bawling  cattle 
being  wintered  on  shares. 

A  trip  like  this  had  not  been  undertaken  lightly 
bv  these  men,  but  Mudge's  alluring  literature  had 
stirred  even  their  unimaginative  minds,  and  the  more 
impulsive  had  gone  so  far  as  to  dispose  of  farming 
implements  and  stock  thai  they  might  send  for  their 

18 


lii 


?74 


THK  LADY  DOC 


families  without  delay  when  the  nurehase  of  the  land 
was  consummated. 

In  the  long  journey  across  the  plains,  one  man  had 
been  tacitly  assigned  the  position  of  spokesman  for  the 
excursionists.  He  wa.s  big,  this  prosperous  looking 
stranger  who  .seemed  so  unconscious  of  his  leadership, 
as  big  as  Andy  P.  Synies  himself,  and  as  muscular. 
He  was  a  western  type,  yet  he  differed  noticeably  from 
his  companions  in  that  his  clothes  fitted  him  and  his 
cosmopolitan  spee^'h  and  manner  were  never  acquired 
in  Oak  Grove,  Iowa.  His  eyes  were  both  humorous  and 
shrewd.  He  compelled  attention  and  deference  with- 
out demanding  it.  They  explained  him  with  pride, 
the  Homeseekers,  to  inquiring  citizens  of  Crowheart. 

* '  That  fellow  ?  Why  he  controls  all  kinds  of  money 
beside  what  he's  got  himself;  cattleman,  banker,  land, 
money  to  bum.  lie's  represontin'  some  farmers  from 
his  section  that  want  to  invest  if  the  proposition's 
good." 

This  was  enough  for  Crowheart,  and  Andy  P. 
Symes,  who  was  attracted  to  Capital  by  an  instinct  as 
sure  as  a  law  of  Nature,  flew  to  him  and  cliuig  like  a 
bit  of  steel  to  a  magnet. 

"Murder  case,"  explained  Symes  for  conver- 
sational purposes  as  he  and  the  banker  stood  at  the 
front  window  in  the  ofBce  of  the  Terriberry  House  and 
watched  a  mad  race  between  Lutz,  the  undertaker,  and 
a  plume  which  had  blown  off  the  hearse. 

"Yes?" 

"Pretty  raw  piece  of  work,"  continued  Symes, 
while  the  banker  searched  in  his  case  for  a  cigar. 
"Old  sheepman  shot  dead  in  his  tracks  the  same  day 
he  was  married  to  a  girl  young  enough  to  be  his 
granddaughter.      Married    him    for   hLs    money   and 


SYMES  MEETS  HOMESEEKERS      275 

there's  no  doubt  in  anybody's  mind  but  that  she  killed 
him  for  the  same  purpose.  She  may  get  away  with  it, 
though,  for  she'll  be  able  to  put  up  a  fight  with  old 
Dubois's  coin." 

"Whoso  ? "    The  banker's  hand  stopped  on  its  way 
to  scratch  a  match  on  the  window-sill. 

"French  Canadian;  signed  himself  'Edouard  Du- 
bois.'   Name  familiar?" 

The  banker's  face  was  a  curious  study  as  his  mind 
went  g  Hoping  back  through  the  years. 
"You  say  he  was  murdered — shot?" 
' ' Dead  as  a  door  nail. ' '  Symes  was  pleased  to  have 
found  a  topic  interesting  to  the  stranger.  "Each  shot 
made  a  buU's-eye,  one  through  the  forehead  and  the 
other  in  liis  heart.  She's  a  good  shot,  this  girl,  her  one 
accomplishment." 

"Does  she  admit  it?" 
Symes  laughed. 

"Oh,  no;  she  tells  some  tale  about  having  gone 
for  water  and  hearing  two  shots— just  about  the  sort 
of  a  yarn  she  icould  tell,  but  there  was  blood  on  her 
clothing  and  Dubois's  own  gun  with  two  empty  cham- 
bers was  found  where  she  had  thrown  it.  They  had  a 
row  probably  and  she  beat  him  to  his  gun  or  else  she 
waited  and  got  the  drop  on  him." 

"But  hnve  they  looked  for  strange  footprints  or  any 
clues  to  corroborate  her  story?"  persisted  the  banker. 
Symes  returned  indifferently — 
"I  suppose  so,  but  it's  an  open  and  shut  case  and 
the  girl  is  practically  a  prisoner  here  in  the  hotel. 
The  sheriff  is  hanging  back  about  her  arrest  -western 
chivalry-,  you  know  but  it  can't  stand  in  the  way  of 
justice,  and  the  people  are  pretty  sore.  Hurts  a  town, 
a  thing  like  this,"  continued  Symes  feelingly,  "gets 


276 


THE  LADY  DOC 


in  all  the  eastern  papers,  and  when  we  appear  in  print 
we  wish  it  to  be  in  connection  with  souiethiug 
creditable." 

The  hanker  aprood  absent-mindedly,  and  asked— 

"Do  you  know  her— this  Mrs.  Dubois?" 

"In  a  way— as  one  person  knows  another  in  a  small 
town"— he  hesitated  delicately— "not  so(fially  at  all. 
She  was  never  in  society." 

The  banker  looked  at  Symcs  sidewise  through  a 
cloud  of  smoke  and  his  lips  twitched  suspiciously  at 
the  corners.    He  said  merely: 

"No?"  and  continued  to  stare  at  the  pall-bearers 
clinging  to  the  wheels  of  the  hearse  while  they  waited 
outside  the  undertaking  establislimcnt  for  *Lutz  to 
beat  his  way  back  with  the  plume. 

"I'd  like  to  have  a  look  at  this  man  Dubois,  if  it's 
possible,"  he  said  suddenly. 

"Why.  yes,"  said  Symes  not  too  willingly. 
"They're  going  to  the  Hal!  now  to  hold  the  services." 
He  hated  to  bo  separated  irom  Capital  even  for  so 
short  a  time,  besides  he  had  a  hope  that  his  "mag- 
netic personality"  and  personal  explanations  might 
go  a  long  way  toward  softening  any  criticisms  he 
might  make  when  he  noted  the  discrepancies  between 
Mudge's  statements  and  the  actual  conditions. 

Symes  had  been  quick  to  recognize  this  man's 
leadership  and  importance;  simultaneously  his  san- 
guine ten<[)erament  had  commenced  to  build  upon  the 
banker's  support— perhaps  even  to  the  extent  of 
financing  the  rest  of  the  project. 

The  banker  followed  the  morbid  crowd  up  the 
steep  stairs  to  the  Hall  and  seated  himself  on  one  of 
the  squeaking  folding  chairs  beside  Mrs.  Abe  Tutts 
and  Mrs.  Alva  Jackson,  who  were  holding  hnnd-^  nTi.-i 


SY.MES  MEETS  HOMESEEKERS       277 


stifiinj;  sobs  which  gave   the   impression  that  their 
hearts  were  breaking. 

The  ugly  lodge  room  whose  walls  were  deenrated 
with  the  gaudy  insignias  of  the  Order  was  lilled  to 
overiiowing  with  the  citizens  of  Crowheart,  whose 
attendance  was  prompted  by  every  other  reason  than 
respect.  Hut  this  'i  stranger  could  not  know,  since 
the  emotion  which  racked  Mrs.  Percy  Parrott's  slender 
frame  and  reddened  Mrs.  Hank  Terriberrj- 's  nose 
seemed  to  spring  from  overwhelming  grief  at  the  loss 
of  a  good  friend  and  neighbor. 

Mrs.  Jackson's  rose-geranium  had  blossomed  just 
in  the  nick  of  time,  and  Mrs.  Parrott,  who  did  beauti- 
ful work  in  paper  fiowers,  had  fashioned  a  purple 
pillow  which  read  "At  Rest"  and  reposed  eonspicu- 
ously  upon  the  highly  polished  cover  of  a  sample 
coffin.  Nor  could  the  stranger,  who  found  himself 
dividing  attention  with  the  casket,  know  that  the 
faltering  tributes  to  the  deceased  taxed  the  young 
rector's  ingenuity  and  conscience  to  the  utmost.  In- 
deed, as  he  saw  the  evidences  of  esteem  and  noted  the 
tears  of  the  grief-stricken  ladies,  he  regretted  the  im- 
pulse which  had  prompted  him  to  go.  for  he  could  not 
conceive  the  removal  of  the  Dubois,  of  his  acciuaintanco 
being  the  occasion  of  either  private  or  public  sorrow. 

But  even  the  sermons  of  young  rectors  must  end, 
and  at  last  Lutz,  in  the  tremulous,  minor,  crepe- 
trimmed  voice  and  drooping  attitude  which  made  the 
listeners  feel  that  undertakers  like  poets  are  born, 
not  made,  urged  those  who  eared  to  do  so  to  step 
forward  and  pass  around  to  the  right. 

Yes,  it  was  he ;  there  was  no  doubt  about  that ;  the 
brutal,  obstinate  face  had  altered  very  little  in  twenty 
-.-core:      Tv.ontv  vp.nrs?       Tt  was  all  of  that  since  he 


278 


THE  LADY  DOC 


had  seen  old  "Ed"  Dubois  bettinj?  his  pold-diist  on  an 
Indian  horse  nice — twenty  years  since  youiij,'  Dick 
Kincaid  had  floundered  through  the  drifts  in  a  moun- 
tain pass  to  see  how  the  Canuck  saved  ildur  '^nUl. 
Once  more  he  w;is  on  tiie  trail,  scufflinj,'  rocks  which 
rolled  a  mile  without  a  stop.  Bc.-fore  him  were  the 
purple  blotches  which  the  violets  made  and  he  could 
smell  the  blossoms  of  the  thorn  and  service  berry  bushes 
that  looked  like  fragrant  banks  of  snow.  He  felt 
a^Min  the  depres.sion  of  the  silence  in  the  valley  below 
—the  silence  in  which  he  heard,  instead  of  barking 
do'^H  and  laughing  children,  the  beating  of  his  own 
heart.  He  never  had  forgotten  the  sight  that  met  his 
eyes,  and  he  recalled  it  now  with  a  vividness  which 
made  him  shudder,  and  he  heard  with  startling  clear- 
ness the  childish  voice  of  a  half-naked,  emaciated  boy 
saying  without  braggadocio  or  hysteria — 

"I'm  goin'  to  find  him,  m'sieu,  and  when  I  do  I'll 
get  him,  sure!" 

Twenty  years  is  a  long  time  to  remember  an  injury, 
but  not  too  long  for  Indian  blood.  It  was  a  good  shot 
—the  purple  hole  was  exactly  in  the  centre  of  the  low, 
corrugated  forehead— it  had  been  no  boyish,  idle 
threat.  Ilis  son  had  "got  him,  sure!"  Neither  had 
Dick  Kincaid  forgotten  his  own  answer — 

"If  you  do,  boy,  and  I  find  it  out,  I  don't  know 
as  I'll  give  you  away." 

He  had  learned  to  save  flour  gold  and  he  was  Imown 
as  Richard  II.  Kincaid  in  the  important  middle  west 
city  where  he  had  returned  with  his  fortune.  Time 
and  experience  had  cooled  his  blood,  yet,  deep  down, 
his  heart  always  responded  to  the  call  of  the  old.  primi- 
tive .iiistice  of  the  mining  camps — "An  eye  for  an 


SYMES  MEETS  HOMESEEKEUS      279 

Kincaid  became  conscious  that  he  was  being  eyed 
in  curiosity  and  impatience  by  the  eager  folk  behind. 
He  heard  Mrs.  Tutts's  rasping  whisper  as  he  moved 

along — 

"She  ain't  shed  a  tear— not  even  gone  into  black. 
I'll  bet  she  don't  aim  to  view  the  corp'  at  all!" 

Kincaid  followed  Mrs.  Tutts's  disapproving  gaze. 
That  was  the  suspect!  That  slim,  young  girl 
with  her  delicately  cut  features  hardened  to  meet  the 
concentrated  gaze  of  a  procession  of  staring,  un- 
friendly eyes"  Why,  as  he  glanced  about  him,  she 
looked  the  only  lady  in  the  room ! 

Essie  sat  with  the  feeling  that  ice  had  formed 
about  her  heart,  trying  to  bear  unflinchingly  the 
curious  or  sneering  looks  of  those  she  had  known  well 
enough  to  call  by  their  first  names.  It  was  torture 
for  the  sensitive  girl  who  saw  in  each  cold  eye  the 
thought  that  she  had  killed  a  man— killed  a  human 
being — for  money ! 

A  feeling  of  overwhelming  pity  surged  over  Kin- 
caid as  he  looked  at  her,  a  feeling  so  strong  that 
when  she  raised  her  eyes  and  gazed  squarely  into 
his  he  wondered  if  he  had  spoken  aloud.  They  were 
blue  and  beautiful,  her  eyes,  as  two  mountain  forget- 
me-nots,  like  two  brui.sed  flowers,  he  thought,  that  had 
been  hurt  to  death.  He  could  remember  having  seen 
only  one  other  pair  like  them. 

An  impulse  so  strong,  a  resolve  so  sudden  and 
violent  that  it  sent  the  blood  in  a  crimson  wave  above 
his  collar  and  over  his  face  seized  him,  and  he  whis- 
pered to  himself  as  he  moved  toward  the  door — 

"I'll  see  her  through,  by  Oeorge!  I'll  stand  by 
her  till  there's  skating  in  the  place  that  don't  com- 


.1.=    f^.-..-.--.  !" 
XliuIiiV    ii'CU^C  i 


XXIV 
The  Dago  Dttkk  and  D.\s  Treu  ExcnANOE 

CoNFIDKNCKS 

"They  were  shod  horsrs  iind  thoy  were  poin'  sorao. 
See  how  deep  the  corks  sunk.  J.ook  fit  tho  lon^'tli  of 
the  jumps.''  The  sheriff  followed  the  hoof  tracks 
with  his  eye  until  they  turued  at  an  angle  and  dropped 
into  the  j,'ulch. 

"Tft!— like  that— and  they  were  pone."  said  tho 
Dapo  Uuke,  with  an  expressive  pcsture.  "Over  there, 
where  I  was  reposiiii,'  under  the  scant  shade  of  a 
sas^'cbnish,  I  opened  my  eyes  just  in  time  to  see  the  top 
of  their  I'ack  hats  disappear.  Her  buggy  was  turning 
the  hill." 

The  sherifT  stepped  r)fT  the  dist^ancc. 

"Less  than  a  hundred  yards.  She  must  have  seen 
them  plainly." 

"Certainly;  that's  when  they  swung  into  the 
gulch." 

"Well,  sir,  it  gets  me."  With  the  admission  the 
sheriff  thrust  his  hands  deep  in  his  trousers  pockets 
and  looked  frankly  nonplu.ssed. 

"She  denied  as  plain  as  she  could  say  it  in  English 
that  she  had  seen  or  met  anybody  and  she'll  probably 
do  the  same  under  oath." 

"No  doubt  about  it,"  replied  the  Dago  Duke. 

"But  why  should  she?"  demanded  the  sheriff  in 
frowning  perplexity.  "I  can  think  of  no  reason,  yet 
she  must  have  one.  Do  you  suppose  she  knew  the  men 
— that  she's  protecting  them  at  the  girFs  expense?" 

The  Dago  Duke  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

280 


DACJO  DlKi:  AND  DAN  TREU 


281 


"It's    possihlt',    but    not    pr.-biiM"    if    tiny    wcro 

Indians." 

"If  ♦hem  wasn't  moooasin  tracks  around  th.  carrp, 
I'll  cat  tni."  Dan  Trou  dorlar.'d  with  ('(.nvictiim. 
"I've  ri'D  with  Injuns  and  fit  Vin,  too,  fiiuuu'h  to  know 
th.'ir  tracks  in  the  <hirk,  but,  man.  thcro  ain't  an  Injun 
within  two  liuinln'd  inilfs  of  hen",  and  bcsidi's  th.-y 
never  got  uway  with  anything;,  there  was  nothiu'  gone, 
and  Reservation  Injuns  ain't  killin'  for  fuTi  those 
days.  That's  riijht,  too,  about  her  not  knowin'  them 
if  they  wen-  Injuns.  I'll  nil  you,  Ua^'o,  I  never  run 
uj)  agin'  a  proposition  just  like  this." 

The  Dago  Duke  looked  retlectively  at  the  .-lul  of  his 

eigarette. 

"It  seems  as  though  that  little  girl's  fate  depends 

upon  this  woman." 

"You  say  they  are  urging  you  to  arrest  her?" 

The  sheriff's  faee  darkened. 

"Oh,  yes,  they've  got  it  all  cut  and  dried  just  how 
it  happened.  They  make  me  think  of  a  pack  of  wolvtjs 
that's  got  a  weak  one  down;  he's  outnumbered  and 
can't  fight  back,  so  jump  him!  tear  him!  They'rr^ 
roarin'  at  me  to  'do  somethin'— Tinhorn  Frank, 
Symes,  Parrott,  the  whole  outfit  of  'em.  Say,  Dago, 
I  wasn't  raised  to  fight  women." 

"Docs  your  chivalry  extend  to  uie  lady  doe?" 

"No,  by  gum!  it  don't,"  replied  the  sheriff,  with  a 
promptness  which  made  the  other  laugh.  "If  I  knew 
any  way  short  of  choking  her  to  get  the  truth  I'd 
doit." 

"You  mean  to  try?" 

"To  choke  her?" 

"To  get  the  truth." 

"I'm  guiu    to  appeal  10  iici  mol. 


!;'!| 


282 


THE  LADY  DOC 


The  Dago  Duke  laughed  sardonically. 

'^ou  think  it  won't  work?" 
"Not  for  a  minute." 
;;ril  see  what  bull-dozing  will  do,  then." 

iietter  save  your  breath  " 
"Why?" 

"It's  a  question  of  veracity.    She'll  see  that.    Iler 
word  aga.nst  nune.     Even  you  nn.t  admit,  Dan,  thai 

th'T    .   "  ^'^""'"  "'P"^^^'"''-    ^'  --munaeant  of 
he  church  versus  the  town  drunkard.     She'd  merely 

•  s.sassin.s     This  chrome  cloud  under  which  I  live  has  its 
.Irawbacks     The  fact  that  I  haven  •.  had  a  drink  in  ^i^ 

to  persist   m  her  den.al   that   she   met   these  men  " 

Iuctantlv'd''T;^'  ""'''"  '''^  ''''"''  ^^^-'^t^d  re- 
uctantb       and  ,t  this  wmd  keeps  up  we  won't  even 
have  tracks  to  back  up  your  story  " 

.reat  fuen<lship  between  them  there  is,  at  least    no 

-lence.      Ue  would  only  .nake  ourselves  absurd,  Dan 
by  any  pubhc  charge.     But  there  is  some  way  to  "i 
the.;uth.     r.y  your  methods  and  thcn-welU '11  i! 

This  was  in  the  forenoon.  That  ev^nin-  the  Da-o 
rn^Wd  against  the  door-Jamb  of  the  WhL^ 
Phant   Saloon  and  watched  Dan   Trcu  coming  from 

His  uh.te  teeth  gleamed  in  a  smile  of  amusement  as 
he  waited  for  the  sh.  riff.  luscment  as 

"Don't  swear,  Dan.     Never  speak  disrcspeetfully 

ot  a  lady  if  you  can  help  it."  ^ 

"Dago,"  said  the  sheriff,  with  his  slow,  emphatic 


DAGO  DUKK  AI  D  DAN  TREU 


283 


drawl,  "I  wish  she  was  a  man  just  for  a  minute — 
half  a  minute — one  second  would  do." 

' '  She  laughed  at  you,  yes  ? ' ' 

"She  laughed  at  me,  yes?  Well,  I  guess  she  did. 
She  gave  me  the  merry  ha !  ha  !  I  told  her  you  had  seen 
two  men  on  horseback  pass  her  out  there  in  the  hills, 
that  I  had  seen  the  mark  of  her  buggy  wheels  and  the 
tracks  of  the  two  horses  on  the  run  and  that  the  print 
of  moccasins  led  from  the  sheep-wagon  into  the  brush. 
She  looked  at  me  with  that  kind  of  stare  where  you 
can  see  the  lie  lying  back  of  it  and  said — 

"I  didn't  see  anybody.     I've  told  you  that  and 
I'll  swear  to  it  if  necessary." 

•'  *Look  here,  Doc,'  I  says,  'if  you  don't  tell  that 
you  saw  these  men  we  '11  tell  it  for  you. 

"That's  when  she  laughed,  cackled  would  bo  a 
better  word,  it  sure  wasn't  a  laugh  you'd  call  ketchin', 
and  says — 

"  'You  fly  at  it.  Try  startin'  something  like  that 
and  see  what  happens  to  you.  I  got  some  pull  in  this 
town  and  you'll  find  it  out  if  you  don't  know  it. 
You'll  wake  up  some  mornin'  and  find  yourself  out  of 
a  job.  Who  do  you  think  would  take  that  drunken 
loafer's  word  against  mine?  And  beside,  why  should 
I  keep  anything  back  that  would  clear  Essie  Tisdale? 
You're  crazy,  man!    Why,  she's  a  friend  of  mine.' 

"You  called  the  turn  on  her  all  right,  Dago;  she 
said  just  about  what  you  said  she  would  say." 

"You  haven't  got  the  right  kind  of  a  mind,  Dan, 
to  sabe  women  of  her  sort.  It  takes  a  Latin  to  do 
that.  There's  natural  craft  and  intrigue  enough  of 
the  feminine  in  tho  southern  races  to  follow  their 
illogical  reasoning  and  to  understand  their  moods  and 
caprices  as  an  Anglo-Saxon  never  can.    You  are  like  a 


11 


:284 


THE  LADY  DOC 


big,  bhmdering,  honest  watch-dog,  Dan,  trying  to  do 
field  work  that  requires  a  trained  hunting  dog  with  a 
fine  nose  and  hereditary  instincts.  If  this  was  a  horse- 
stealing  case,  or  cattle  rustling,  or  a  sheep  raid,  and 
you  were  dealing  with  men  all  around " 

The  deputy-sheriff's  jaw  set  grimly. 

"  I  'd  have  the  truth  or  lie  'd  be  ia  the  hospital  I  'm 
handicapped  here  because  there's  no  money  in  the 
treasury  to  work  with.  This  county's  as  big  as  a 
btate  and  only  two  or  three  thousand  in  it,  so  we  are 
about  as  tlush  as  grasshopper  year  in  Kansas  The 
people  are  howling  about  bringin'  the  murderer  to 
justice  at  any  cost,  but  if  I'd  ask  'em  to  dig  up  a 
hundred  apiece  in  cold  cash  for  expense  money  they'd 
subsidt'  (luick."  ^ 

"This  is  one  of  the  few  occasions  when  my  past 
extravagances  and  habits  fill  me  with  regret,"  replied 
the  Dago  Duke,  with  half-humorous  seriousness    "My 
remittance  which  has  shrunk  until  it  is  barely  sufficient 
to  sustain  life,   is  already  spoken  for  some  months 
ahead  by  certain  low  persons  who  consider  themselves 
my  creditors.    Tinhorn  Frank,  who  drew  to  a  straight 
and  filled,  is  one  of  them,  raid  Slivers,  inside,  has  a 
mortgage  on  my  body  and  soul  until  an  alleged  indebt- 
edness is  wiped  out. 

"Financially  and  socially  I  am  nil;  mentally  and 
physically  my  faculties  are  at  your  disposal.  Do 
you  happen  to  know  anything  in  the  lady's  past  or 
present  that  she  would  not  care  to  have  exploited? 
Blackmail,  yes?  I  have  no  scruples.  What  do  you 
know  ?  '  "^ 

The  deputy  gave  the  Dago  Duke  a  curious  look,  but 
did  not  answer. 

"There's  something,"  guessed  the  other  quickly. 


DAGO  DUKE  AND  DAN  TREU    285 


"Yes,  Dago,  there  is,"  said  Dan  Treu  finally 
with  awkward  hesitation.  "It's  something  so  fierce 
that  I  hate  to  tell  it  even  to  you  for  fear  there  might 
be  some  mistake.  It's  hard  to  believe  it  myself.  It 
sounds  so  preposterous  that  I'd  be  laughed  at  if  I 
told  it  to  anyone  t 'se  in  Crowheart." 

"I'll  not  laugh,"  said  the  Dago  Duko.  "It's  the 
preposterous— the  most  unlikely  thing  you  can  think 
of  that  is  frequently  true.  I've  studied  that  woman, 
with  my  comparatively  limited  opportunities,  until  I 
know  her  better  than  you  think  and  far,  far  better 
than  she  thinks." 

"Dago,"  the  big  deputy  squirmed  as  he  asked  the 
question : 

"Could  you  believe  her  a  petty  thief?" 

"Without  the  least  difficulty,"  replied  the  Dago 
Duke  composedly. 

"That  she  would  rifle  a  man's  pockets— roll  him 
like  any  common  woman  of  the  street?" 

"If  it  was  safe — quite,  quite  safe." 

Slowly,  even  reluctantly,  Dan  Treu  told  the  Dago 
Duke  the  story  of  the  Italians  as  he  had  heard  it  in 
their  broken  English  from  their  own  lips.  Through 
it  all  the  Dago  Duke  whistled  softly,  listening  without 
emotion  or  surprise.  He  still  whistled  when  the 
deputy  had  finished. 

"Do  you  believe  it?"  the  sheriff  asked  anxiously, 
at  last. 

"Emphatically  I  do.  Let  me  tell  you  something, 
Dan :  a  woman  that  will  stoop  to  the  petty  leg-pulling, 
sponging,  grafting  that  she  does  to  save  two  bits  or 
less  has  got  a  thief's  make-up.  Her  mania  for  money, 
for  getting,  for  saving  it,  is  a  matter  of  common 
knowledge. 


Rl 


m 


286 


THy.  LADY  DOC 


'You  know  and  I  know  that  she  will  do  any  indeli- 
cate  thing  which  occurs  to  her  to  get  what  she  wants 
without  paying  for  it.  When  she  wants  a  drink,  which 
the  good  God  knows  is  often,  she  asks  any  man  she 
iiappens  to  know  and  is  near  to  buv  it  for  li-r      Her 
camaraderie    flatters    him.      She    habitually    'bums' 
cigarettes  and  I've  known  her  to  go  through  a  fellow's 
war-bag,  m  his  absence,  for  tobacco.   When  she's  hun- 
py,  which  I  should  judge  was  all  the  time,  she  drops 
in  casually  upon  a  patient  and  humorously  raids  the 
pantry-all  with  that  air  of  nonchalant  good  fellow- 
ship which  shields  her  from  much  criticism,  since  what 
m  reality  is  miserliness  and  gluttony  passes  very  well 
lor  amusing  eccentricity." 
Dan   Treu   laughed.' 

"You've  got  her  sized  up  right  in  that  wav.  Dago 
I  know  a  fellow  that  was  sick  and  had  to  c;che  the 
chocolate  and  things  his  folks  sent  him  from  the  East 
under  the  mattress  when  he  saw  her  coming  and  he 
always  locked  the  fruit  in  his  trunk  after  she  had 
cleaned  him  out  a  dozen  times  as  though  a  flock  of 
seventeen-year  locusts  had  swarmed  down  upon  liim 
One  night  about  two  or  three  in  the  morning  when  she 
couldn  t  sleep,  she  called  on  a  typhoid  patient  under 
the  pretext  of  making  a  professional  visit,  and  got  the 
nurse  to  fry  her  some  eggs.     She's  as  regular  as  a 
boarder  at  Andy  P.   Symes's   when   meal-time  rolls 
^""""'rlf,    r.-^  '"""^'^  .sometimes  that  he  stands  for  it  " 
The  Dago  Duke  looked  at  him  oddly,  but  observed 
merely  : 

"Do  you?" 

"And  you  don't  think  the  dagos  made  a  mistake 
or  misunderstood  something  through  not  talkin'  Eng- 
hsh  much?    It  sounded  straight  to  me  the  way  thev 


DAGO  DUKE  AND  DAN  TREU   287 


told  it,  but  a  thinj^  like  this  is  something  you  don't 
want  to  repeat  unless  you  just  about  saw  it  for 
yourself." 

"If  they  told  you  they  had  $5.50  taken  from  them 
you  can  bet  it's  so.  Italians  of  that  class  know  to  a 
penny  what  they  have  sent  home,  what  they  have  in 
the  bank,  what  there  is  in  their  pockets  to  spend. 
Generations  of  poverty  have  taught  them  carefulness 
and  thrift.  Americans  call  them  ignorant  and  stupid 
because  their  unfamiliarity  with  the  language  and  cus- 
toms make  them  appear  so,  but  they  are  neither  too 
ignorant  nor  stupid  to  misunderstand  an  incident  like 
this.    Are  the  men  still  on  the  works?" 

The  deputy  nodded. 

"If  you'll  loan  me  your  horse  I'll  ride  out  and  see 
them  myself.  My  understudy  can  perhaps  stand  an- 
other day  with  the  sheep  without  going  crazy.  When 
I  come  back  I  may  be  in  a  better  position  to  call  upon 
the  lady  doc  and  talk  it  over.  She's  fond  of  me,  you 
know." 

"So  I've  noticed."  Dan  Treu  grinned  as  he 
recalled  the  invariable  exchange  of  personalities  when 
they  met. 


XXV 

Crowueart  Demands  Justice 

The  utterly  insipfnificant  toloffraph  operator  at  an 
equally  insipnificant  railway  station  m  Mexico  loomed 
a  person  of  colossal  importance  to  Ogclen  Van  Lennop, 
who  had  calculated  that  the  reply  to  his  tele<,'ram  was 
considerably  more  than  a  week  overdue.  As  he  went 
once  more  to  the  tele,i,'raph  ofliee,  the  only  reason  of 
which  he  could  think  for  being  <rlad  that  he  was  the 
principal  owner  in  the  only  paying  mine  in  the  vicin- 
ity was  that  the  operator  did  not  dare  laugh  in  his 
face. 

"Anything  for  me?" 
"Nothing;  not  yet,  sir." 

The  operator's  voice  and  manner  were  respectful, 
but  Van  Lennop  saw  his  teeth  gleam  beneath  his  dark 
mustache.  lie  had  found  it  quite  useless  to  assure 
Van  Lennop  that  he  need  not  trouble  himself  to  call 
as  any  telegram  would  be  delivered  immediately  upon 
its  receipt,  also  he  had  been  long  enough  in  the  ser- 
vice to  know  that  young  Americans  of  Van  Lennop 's 
type  did  not  ordinarily  become  so  intense  over  a 
matter  of  business. 

"Could  it  have  gone  astray— this  infernal  name — 
it  looks  like  a  piece  of  barbed  wire  when  it's  spelled 
out— is  there  another  place  of  the  same  name  in 
Mexico  ? 

"Not  in  the  world,  sir." 

"I  didn't  think  so."  returned  Van  Lennop  grimly. 
He  continued:  "I  want  you  to  telegraph  the  operator 
in  Crowheart  and  find  out  positively  if  the  message 
was  dehvered  to  the  person  to  whom  it  was  sent." 


CIIOWHEART  DEMANDS  JUSTICE    289 

"I'll  fret  it  off  at  once,  sir." 

So  this  was  beinjr  "in  love?" — this  frenzy  of  im- 
patience, this  unceasing  anxiety  which  would  not  let 
him  sleep !  It  seemed  to  Van  Lennop  that  he  had 
n(^arly  run  the  emotional  gamut  since  leaving  Crow- 
heart  and  fdl  that  remained  to  be  experienced  was 
further  deptlis  of  doubt  and  dark  despair.  Had  he 
been  too  sure  of  her,  he  asked  himself;  had  something 
in  his  letter  or  the  sending  of  his  telegram  displeased 
her?    Was  she  ill? 

He  reproached  himself  bitterly  for  not  telling  her 
before  he  left,  and  thought  with  angry  impatience  of 
the  caution  which  had  kept  him  silent  because  ho 
wanted  to  be  sure  of  himself. 

"Sure  of  myself!"  he  repeated  it  contemptuously. 
"I  should  have  been  making  sure  of  her!  The  veriest 
yokel  would  have  known  that  h<j  was  completeh  — 
desperately  in  love  with  her,  but  I,  like  the  spineless 
niollusk  that  I  am,  must  needs  wait  a  little  longer — 
'to  be  sure  of  myself!" 

To  shorten  the  long  hours  which  must  intervene  be- 
fore he  could  expect  a  reply  from  Crowheart,  Van 
Lennop  ordered  his  saddle  horse  and  rode  to  the  mine, 
where  a  rascally  superintendent  had  stripped  the  ore 
chute  and  departed  with  everything  but  the  machin- 
ery. Van  Lennop  had  the  tangled  affairs  of  the  mine 
fairly  well  straightened  oiit  and  the  new  superinten- 
dent was  due  that  day,  so  the  end  of  his  enforced 
stay  was  in  sight  in  a  day  or  two  more — three  at  the 
most. 

As  his  horse  picked  its  way  over  the  mountain  trail 

the  fresh  air  seemed  to  clear  his  brain  of  the  jumble 

of  doubts  and  misgivings  and  replace  them  with  a 

growing  conviction  that  something  had  gone  wrong — 

iu 


—  -til 


290 


THE  LADY  DOC 


that  all  was  not  vvoll  with  Essie  Tisdale.  Ilis  !inan- 
swered  letter  and  telegram  was  entirely  at  variance 
with  her  sweet  {.'ood-nature.  What  if  she  were  need- 
ing him,  calling,'  upon  him  now,  this  very  minute? 
He  urpred  his  horse  unconsciously  nt  the  thoujrht. 
Some  accident— he  could  think  of  nothing  else— unless 
a  serious  illness. 

The  employees  at  the  mine  observed  that  the  younj; 
America  I  owner  was  siuf^ularly  inattentive  that  day 
to  the  cnmi)laints  and  grievances  to  which  heretofore 
he  had  lent  a  patient  ear. 

Ilis  horse  was  sweating  when  upon  his  return  he 
threw  the  reins  to  an  idle  Mexican  in  front  of  his  hotel 
and  hurried  into  the  office. 

Yes ;  there  was  a  telegram  for  Senor  Van  Lcnnop— 
two,  in  fact. 

He  tort  open  the  envelope  of  one  with  fingers  which 
were  awkward  in  their  haste.    The  telegram  read : 

Message  addressed  to  Miss  Essie  Tisdale  received  and 
delivered. 

Opebator 

Van  Lennop  stood  quite  still  and  read  it  again, even 
to  the  unintelligible  date-line.  He  felt  suddenly  life- 
less, listless,  as  though  he  wanted  to  sit  down.  It  was 
all  over,  then.  She  had  received  his  letter  and  his 
telegram,  and  her  reply  to  his  offer  of  his  love  and  him- 
self was— silence?  It  was  not  like  her,  but  there 
seemed  nothing  more  for  him  to  do.  He  could  not 
force  himself  and  his  love  upon  her.  She  knew  her 
own  mind.  His  conceit  had  led  him  into  error.  It 
was  done. 

He  opened  the  other  telegram  mechanically.  It 
was  from  Prescott  and  partially  in  code.     Tt  was  a 


CROWHEART  DEMANDS  JUSTICE    J^'Jl 


i 

i 
I 


lont,'  one  for  I'rcscott  to  send,  but  Van  Lennop  looked 
at  it  without  interest.  lie  would  translate  it  at  his 
leisure — there  was  no  hurry  now — the  ganie  had  lost 
its  zest. 

Van  Lennop  turned  to  the  dinpy  register.  A  train 
had  arrived  in  his  absence  and  perhaps  Britt,  the 
new  superintendent,  liad  eome.  His  nanu;  was  tlier(> — 
that  was  something  for  which  to  be  grateful,  as  he 
could  the  sooner  get  back  into  the  world  where  he 
couhl  find  in  business  something  better  than  his  owii 
wretched  thoughts  to  occupy  his  mind. 

lie  walked  languidly  over  the  stone  flagging  to  his 
room  and  dropped  listlesslj-  int.  a  chair.  It  was  not 
long  before  he  heard  Britt  \s  alert  step  in  the  corridor 
quickly  followed  by  his  brisk  rap  upon  the  door.  lie 
always  had  liked  the  ambitious  young  engineer  and 
they  shook  hands  cordialh\ 

"I'm  more  than  glad  to  see  you." 

Britt  laughed, 

'*I  dare  say.  A  week  in  a  place  like  this  is  much 
like  a  jail  sentence  unless  you're  hard  at  work.  Are 
things  in  pretty  muei'  if  a  mess?" 

Van  Lennop  went  )ver  the  situation  briefly,  and 
concl'jded — 

"I'll  stay  over  a  day  or  so,  if  you  desire." 

"There's  no  necessity,  I  think,"  said  Britt,  rising. 
"I'll  keep  in  touch  with  you  by  wire.  Crowheart 
again?" 

Van  Lennop  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  going  east  from  here." 

"Here's  a  late  paper;  perhaps  you'd  like  to  look 
it  over.  When  I'm  in  a  place  like  this  I  can  read 
a  patent  medicine  pamphlet,  and  enjoy  it." 

Van  Lonnop  smiled. 


l:\ 


I  I 

I 

111 


292 


THH  LADY  DOC 


"Mucli  ohlif^cd.  'J'hcro's  Iho  supper  gong.  Don't 
wait  for  nie;  I'll  l)e  a  little  late." 

Van  Lennop  had  no  desire  for  Fnod,  much  less  for 
conversation,  so  he  picked  up  tlu'  tr.ivrl-wom  news- 
paper whicli  Rritt  lind  tossed  upon  the  table  and 
^'laneed  at  the  headlines. 

The  stock  market  was  stronger.  Nevada  Con  was 
tip  three  points.  TIk^  girl  with  the  beautiful  eyebrows 
had  married  that  French  jackanapes  after  all.  An- 
other famine  in  India,  .v  Crowheart  datedine  caught 
his  eye. 

WkAITIIV   f^IIKHI'MAX  ^IrUDKUKD 
EdOIARI)   DlHOlS   SiloT   AND   KlLI.ED   AT   IIlS  CAMP 

Bkide  uf  a   Day  to  Be  Akkested 


The  story  of  E.ssie  Tisdale's  marriage  with  Dubois 
followed,  and  even  the  news  editor's  pencil  could  not 
eliminate  Sylvanus  Starr's  distinctive  style.  lie  had 
made  the  most  of  a  chance  of  a  lifetime.  "An  old 
num's  darling" — "Serpent  he  had  wanned  in  his 
bosom" — "Weltering  in  his  blood"— all  the  trite 
phrases  and  vulgarisms  of  country  journalism  were 
nsed  to  tell  the  sensational  siorj'  which  sickened  Van 
Lennop  as  he  read  : 

"The  arrest  of  the  murdered  patriarch's  beauti- 
ful bride  is  expected  hourly,  as  the  leading  citizens 
of  Crowheart  are  clamoring  for  justice  and  are  bring- 
ing strong  pressun>  to  bear  upon  Sheriff  Treu,  who 
seems  strangely  reluctant  to  act." 

The  paper  dropped  from  Van  Lennop 's  nerveleM 
hand  and  he  sat  staring  at  it  where  it  lay.  He  picked 
it  up  and  read  the  last  paragraph,  for  his  dazed  brain 
had  not  yet  grasped  its  meaning.  But  when  its  entire 
significance  was  made  clear  to  him  it  came  with  a  rush : 


CROWIIKAHT  DEMANDS  JUSTICE    293 

it  was  like  the  instantaneous  effect  of  some  powerful 
(iruLC  or  stimulant  that  turned  the  blood  to  fire  and 
crazed  the  brain.  The  blind  ra<?e  which  made  the 
room  swinp  round  was  like  the  frenzy  of  insanity. 
Van  Lennop's  face  wont  crimson  an<l  oaths  that  never 
liiid  passed  liis  lips  came  forth,  chokingdiot  and 
inarticulate. 

"The  Icadinpr  eitizen.s  of  Crowhoart,  the  outcasts 
and  ritT-ralf  (if  civili/ation,  the  tinhorn  pamblers,  the 
embezzlers,  ex-bankrupts  and  libertines,  the  sheep- 
herders  and  Informed  cattle-thieves,  the  blackmailers 
and  dance-hall  touts  swollen  by  prosperity,  dis<?uised 
by  a  veneer  of  respectability,  want  justice,  do  theyt 
Hy  (<(id!"  Van  Lennop  shook  his  clenched  tist  at 
tiie  empty  air.  *'  the  leading  citizens  of  Crowheart 
shall  ii.WE  justice!" 

lie  smoothed  Prescott's  crumpled  telegram  and 
reached  fur  his  code-book. 

When  he  had  its  meaning  he  pulled  a  telegraph- 
blank  toward  him,  and  wrote : 

Carry  out  my  instructions  to  the  letter.  Do  not  neglect 
the  smallest  detail.  Leave  no  stone  unturned  to  aecompliah 
the  end  in  view. 

Van  Lennop 


m 


XXVI 

Latin  .Mkthoos 

"On.  Doc!"  It  was  tho  tolofjraph  oporafor,  hat- 
less,  in  his  shirt-sh'i'vcs,  hum  mg  toward  her  In.i'ii  th.; 
fitatidii  as  she  passed. 

Doctor  Ilarpi!  stood  quite  still  and  waited,  not  pur- 
posely hut  hceauso  a  sudden  wakriess  in  her  knees 
made  it  impossihle  for  her  to  meet  him  halt-way.    She 
wa.s  conseious  that    he  color  w;i.s  l.'avin-  her  I'aco  even 
as  her  upp<'r  lip  stretelied  in  the  strai<,'ht,  mirthless 
smile  with  which  sh(^  faceii  a  crisis.     She  knew  well 
onou-rh  why  he  called  her,  tlie  dread  of  this  moment 
had  heen  with  her  ever  since  her  foolish  l.oast  of  Van 
Leiinop's  letter  and  the  drstruetion  of  his  telej,'ram. 
"You  frave  that  message  to  Essie?    She  got  it  all 
right,  didn't  she.  Doc?" 

She    liiid    pnpjired    herself    a    hundred    times    to 

answer  this  (piestion,   but  now  that   it  was  put  she 

round  it  no  .'asier  to  decide  on  a  reply;  to  know  what 

answ.T  would  In^st  save  htr   from   the  consequences 

of  the  stupid  error  into  which  her  hatred  had  led  her. 

If  she  said  that  she  had  lost  it   and  subsequent 

events  had  driven  it  from  her  mind,  he  would  duplicate 

the  message.    If  she  said  she  had  delivered  it  and  her 

falsehood  was  discovered,  her  position  was  rendered 

more  dangerous,  ten-fold.    She  decided  on  the  answer 

wliich  placed  discovery  a  little  farther  off. 

"Sure,  she  got  it;  I  gave  it  to  her  that  afternoon." 

Her  assurance  closed  the  incident  .so  far  as  the 

teletrray/h  operator  was  concerned;   it   was  the  real 

beginning  of  it  to  Doctor  Ilarpe,  whose  inteUigenee 


LATIN  MKTHODS 


295 


enabled  her  to  rcalizt'  to  tlu'  utmost  the  position  in 
which  she  now  had  irrevocably  placed  herself.  She 
turned  abnii)fly  and  walked  to  her  oftic;  with  a  uer- 
vous  rapidity  total'y  unlike  her  usual  swa^'j^'cr. 

When  the  door  was  dosed  behind  her  she  paced 
the  floor  with  excited  strides.  It  w;i.s  useless  to 
attempt  to  hide  from  herself  the  fact  that  she  wa.s 
horribly,  cravenly  afraid  of  Opdon  Van  Lennop;  for 
she  rec()<,Mii/.eil  hetieath  his  calm  exterior  a  .piality 
which  inspired  fear.  She  was  afraid  of  him  as  an 
individual,  afraid  of  his  money  and  the  power  of  his 
influence  if  he  chose  to  use  them,  for  Dr.  Ilarpe  had 
brains  enough,  worldly  wisdom  eiioui^di,  to  know  that 
be  was  beyond  her  reach. 

In  Crowhcart,  she  believed  that  throus^h  her  .strong 
personality  and  the  support  of  Andy  P.  S3mes  she 
could  accomplish  nearly  anythin-,'  she  undertook;  but 
she  knew  that  in  the  -jreat  world  outside  where  she  had 
discovered  Van  Lennop  was  a  factor,  slie  would  be 
only  an  eccentric  female  doctor,  amusin^?  perhaps, 
mildly  interesting,  even,  but  entirely  inconsequential. 
Iler  thou.Efhts  became  a  chaotic  jam  of  incoherent 
explanations  as  she  thouirbt  of  an  accounting:  to  Van 
Lennop  should  he  return,  and  aj,'ain  she  raged  at  her- 
self for  the  in.sane  impulse  which  had  led  her  to  boaat 
of  a  farewell  letter  to  her.  The  sleepless  hours  in 
which  she  had  gene  over  and  over  the  situation  with 
every  solution  growing  more  preposterous  than  the 
last,  had  been  telling  upon  the  nerves  which  never 
had  quite  recovered  from  the  shock  and  the  incidents 
which  followed  Alice  Freoff's  death.  The  slightest 
excitement  seemed  to  set  them  jangling  of  late. 

They  were  twitching  now ;  her  eyelids,  her  shoul- 
ders, her  mouth  seemed  never  in  repose  when  she  was 
alone.    ITer  hand  shook  uncontrollably  as  she  refilled 


El  I     , 


iL 


I , 


I 


296 


THE  LADY  DOC 


a  whiskoy  glass  and  rollod  and  smoked  another  cigar- 
ett..  It  was  no  now  thing,  this  nervous  paroxysm, 
being  nearly  always  the  climax  to  a  night  of  exag- 
gerated fear.  The  necessity  for  self-possession  and  out- 
ward calmness  in  public  made  it  a  relief  to  let  her 
Dervfs  go   when   alone. 

"If  he  comes  back,  I'm  ruined!  ITe'lI  cut  loose 
on  me  in  public  and  he'll  sting;  I  know  him  well 
enough  for  that."  Ilor  hands  grew  clammy  at  the 
thought  "It'll  put  a  crimp  in  my  prac/  ;.  If  it 
wasn  t  for  the  backin'  of  Symes  Td  as  well  pull  my 
fre.ght-but  he  hasn't  come  yet.  It's  not  likely  he 
ever  will  with  no  word  from  her  and  this  scandal 
eomm  close  on  the  heels  of  her  silence.  I  'm  a  fool  to 
worry-to  let  myself  get  in  such  a  sta^o  as  .his  " 

She  no  longer  entertained  Ihe  hullueination   that 
she  might  attract  Van  Lennop  to  herself;  to  .save  her- 
selt  Irom  public  exposure,  should  li..  I.v  any  chance  re- 
turn  was  her  one  thought,  her  only  aim.    And  always 
her  hopes  simmered  down  to  the  one  which  centred 
in  bymes's  influence  in  Crowheart  and  his  compulsory 
protectmn  of  herself.     Ue  dared  not  desert  her 
"Let  hira  try  it!"  Sh-^  voiced  her  defiant  thoughts. 
Let  him  go  back  on  me  if  he  dare!    If  I  .r^t  jn  a 
place  where  IVe  absolutely  nothing  to  los^-if  he 
throws  me  down-Andy  P.  Rynios  and  Crowheart  will 
have  iood  for  thought  for  many  a  dav.     Hut   pshaw' 

I  m  rattled  now;  I've  pulled  out  before  and  I'U " 

A  hand  upon  the  door-knob  startled  her.  Ilastilv 
she  shoved  the  glass  and  bottle  from  sight  and  pulled 
herself  together. 

"Oh,  it's  you?"  Her  tone  was  not  cordial,  as  the 
Dago  Duke  stood  before  her. 

"Did  you  think  it  was  your  pastor,"  inquired  that 


LATIN  METHODS 


297 


person  suavely  as  he  sniffed  the  air,  "come  to  remon- 
strate with  you  upon  your  intemperate  habits?" 

She  laughed  her  short,  harsh  laugh  as  she  toolv  the 
bottle  from  its  hiding-place  and  shoved  it  toward  him. 

"Help  yourself." 

She  had  long  since  learned  that  it  was  useless  to 
pretend  before  the  Dago  Duke.  Ilis  mocking,  com- 
prehending eyes  made  pretence  ridiculous  even  to  her- 
self. She  dreaded  meeting  him  in  public  because  of 
the  flippant  disn'spcct  of  his  manner  toward  her;  pri- 
vately she  found  a  certain  pleasure  in  throwing  off 
the  cloak  which  hid  her  dark,  inner-self  from  Crow- 
heart.  He  assumed  her  hypocrisy  as  though  it  were 
a  fact  too  obvious  to  (piestion  and  she  had  been  obliged 
to  accept  his  estimate  of  her. 

"IIow  like  you,  my  dear  ijoctor!"  He  picked  up 
the  bottle  and  read  the  label.  "Your  womanly  solici- 
tude for  my  thirst  touches  me  deeply,  but," — he  re- 
placed the  bottle  upon  her  desk— "since  I've  stood  off 
the  demon  Rum  for  six  weeks  now  I'll  hold  him  at  bay 
until  I  finish  my  little  talk  with  you." 

"If  you're  here  on  business,  cut  it  short,"  she  said 
curtly. 

"I  can't  imagine  myself  here  on  ary  other 
errand"  he  returned  placidly.  "Say,  Doc,"— there 
was  a  note  in  his  wonderful  speaking  voice  which 
made  her  look  up  quickly — "why  don't  you  give  back 
that  $5.00  and  four  bits  you  pinched  from  Giovanni 
Pellezzo?" 

The  moment  >-,.  owed  her  remarkable  self-control. 
She  could  feel  her  overtaxed  nerves  jump,  but  not  a 
muscle  of  her  face  moved. 

"What  are  you  driving  at?"  she  demanded. 

"The  name  is  not  familiar  to  you?" 

'■'Not  at  aii." 


298 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"If  you're  here  to  insult  me " 

^''You've  got  to  expJain." 

'  That 's  what  I  cam ->  fnr  "    tt^       -i    i     , 
"Well?"    cjh\  /?         ^le  smiled  pleasantly. 

vveJl/       She  tapped  her  foot. 

y  -r  .suspense  makes  me  desire  to  prolon-  if     vt 

Doc,  y„„  v„  „„„.„  t,„  y^^^  ^,^j  I       "V  soul, 

You  should  avoid  worry  by  all  mean.  b„t  r  „  ■"^"■ 
stand  oxacly  how  ,•„,  Li  Xu  y  nl'^r^f 
sure  to  which  case  I  may  refer  "  ^ 

He  looked  at  her  critically 

applr.'"";™  Doe'>"fr  ^'''^""""•"""  *°  ^•>"- 

«^       •  ,  '  '   ^  '^"  y^"!*  inte  licence   and 

experience,  how  did  you  come  to  rifle  a  man's  pocket 
^ith  a  witness  in  the  room?"  ^ 

She  jumped  to  her  feet 

The  Dago  Duke  crossed  his  legs  leisurely 

1  were  you     The  fact  is.  Doc,  I  dropped  in  merely  to 
make  a  little  deal  with  you."  ii  merely  to 

"Blackmail!"  shp  Priori  f..^:^..^-,^ 


LATIN  METHODS 


299 


"In  a  way— yes.  Strictly,  I  suppose,  you  might 
call  it  blackmail." 

"You're  broke  again— you  A-ant  money!" 

The  Dago  Duke  shuddered. 

"Oh,  Doe !  how  can  you  be  so  indelicate  as  to  taunt 
me  with  my  poverty ;  to  suc:nrest,  to  hint  even  so  subtly, 
that  I  would  fill  my  empty  pockets  from  your  purse?" 
He  looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"What  do  you  want,  then?" 

The  Dago  Duke's  voice  took  on  a  purring,  feline 
softness  which  was  more  emphatic  and  final  than  any 
loud-mouthed  vehemence — 

"What  do  I  want?  I  want  you  to  tell  the  officers 
that  you  passed  two  men  riding  on  a  nm  from  Du- 
bois's sheep-camp— two  Indians  or  'breeds'  in  moc- 
casins—and  I  want  you  to  do  it  quick!" 

"You  want  me  to  perjure  myself  and  you  'want 
me  to  do  it  quick,'  "  she  mimicked. 

He  paid  no  attention. 

"I  want  you  to  heli)  clear  that  girl;  if  you  refuse, 
Giovanni  Pellezzo  will  swear  out  a  warrant  for  your 
arrest,  charging  you  with  the  theft  of  .$5.50  while  he 
was  etherized  for  a  minor  operation." 

They  regarded  each  other  iu  a  long  silence. 

She  said  finally — 

"You  know,  of  course,  that  this  Italian  will  have 
to  go  after  this?" 

"You'll  have  him  discharged?" 

"Certainly." 

"He  needs  a  rest." 

"He'll  get  it." 

Another  pause  came  before  she  asked — 

"Do  you  imagine  for  a  moment  that  an  ignorant 
foreigner  can  get  a  warrant  for  me  on  such  a  charge?" 

*'l  foresee  the  difficulty." 


in 


1 1^ 


{:?| 


soo 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"You  mean  to  persist?" 
He  nodded. 
She  flunj,'  at  him — 
"Try  it!" 

oveniv^  -t'hJ^/!  ^H  ''"''"  '""^'""^^^  '^'  ^^^<^  I^^ke 

hind  /h  '  '■"''  '^  ^^°''^^'°  ^^°^^t«'  ^bose 

hand  the  nurse,  acting  under  your  instructions,  held 
af  or  thrusfn.  a  pencil  in  his  limp  fingers  and  s  S 
a  check  when  he  .-as  dying  and  unconscious.  TOch 
check  you  cashed  after  his  death,  in  violation  of  the 
State  banking  laws  from  which  perhaps  even  vou  are 
not  exen.pt  ,t  this  mans  relatives  choase  to  brfng/ou 
to  account  for  the  irregularitv  " 
"It  is  a  lie!" 

"It  i.s  not  impossible,"  he  continued,  "lo  get  the 

that  she  knew  enough  about  you  both  to  'send\ou 
over  the  road.'  It  is  not  too  difficult  to  brinAo  lil^t 
the  examples  of  your  incrediole  incompetency  ,vS 
prove  you  unfit  to  sign  a  death  certificate  nor  i  A  our 
record  in  Nebraska  hard  to  get  "  ^  ^^ 

"AnrwW  '  'r  "^"^""  ^'P^  ^^^«^«  «h^  «P°ke. 
this?"  ''      '  "^""'^  ''"^'^^  ^^^"^  to  do  all 

-pS::^;l^:::^:^^--^^-^^^^^=-ttaek,huthe 

"It  will  be  ready  when  needed  " 

trum',?i'  ''  P-^rsecution-a  plot  to  nn-n  me  on  the 
trumped.,p  charges  of  irresponsible  people." 

The  Dago  Duke's  keen  ear  detected  the  faint  note 
on.ncertamty  and  agitation  beneath  the  defiance  of 

"These  things  are  true-and  more,"  he  returned 
unen.ot,onally.  ''But  consider,  even  if  vou  beat  ^s 
at  every  turn  thrmjaii  r,«,.c^,,„.  :_^._       -    "  "^'i''  ns 

.  -  J-  '  -"-lai  iiiaucucc,  yuu  wiii  pa.' 


LATIN  METHODS 


doi 


dearly  for  your  victories  in  money,  in  peace,  in  repu- 
tation.  These  thiups  will  Lave  a  stij^ma  which  will 
outlast  you.  It  will  arouse  suspicion  of  your  ability 
and  skill  amon.sr  your  private  patients  who  now  trust 
you.  You'll  have  to  fight  every  inch  of  the  road  to 
retain  your  jrround.  or  any  part  of  it,  against  the  new 
and  abler  physicians  a\1io  must  come  with  the  growth 
of  the  country.  You'll  not  be  wanted  by  your  best 
friends  when  it  comes  to  a  ca.se  of  life  and  death. 
You'll  become  only  a  kind  of  licensed  midwife  rushing 
about  from  one  accoiichemeiit  to  another,  and,  even 
for  this,  you  must  finesse  and  intrigue  in  the  maimer 
which  has  made  the  incompetents  of  your  sex  in 
medicine  the  bete  noir  of  the  profession." 

The  sneering  smile  siie  had  forced  faded  as  he 
talked.  It  was  like  the  delilx  rate  voice  of  Prophecy, 
drawing  pictures  which  she  had  seen  in  waking  night- 
mares that  she  called  the  "blues"  and  was  wont  to 
drive  away  with  a  drink  or  a  social  call  outside. 

She  raised  her  chin  from  her  chest  where  it  had 
sunk,  and  simimoned  her  courage. 

"You  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  inform 
yourself  up'  n  the  subject  of  the  medical  profession 
and  my  unfitness  for  it." 

The  Dago  Duke  hesitated  and  an  expression  which 
■was  new  to  it  crossed  his  face,  a  look  of  mingled  pride 
and  pain. 

"I  have  gone  to  less  trouble  than  you  think,"  he 
answered  finally.  "I  was  reared  in  the  atmosphere  of 
mcdicme.  My  father  was  a  beloved  and  trusted  phy- 
sician to  the  royal  family  of  my  country.  I  was  to 
have  followed  in  his  footsteps  and  partially  prepared 
myself  to  do  so.  The  i-eason  that  I  have  not  is  not  too 
difficult  to  ?Tuess  since  it  is  the  s.^mp  v/hif^h  p.^'nr'H  mf» 
sheep-herding  at  ff!40  a  month." 


302 


THE  LADV  DOC 


I>K.o  n  L  ^.r  ^^  ^  ^  ''  ''''''^'''  ^''''  ^'^'-  there."    The 
Ha^'o  Duke  threw  up  his  hand  wkh  a  oharaeteristic 
foreign  gesture  a.  though  dismissing  hi.nself  ^ro,      Le 

prsona  history.  ",t  serves  but  one  purpose  and 
J^at  .s  that  yon  may  i<novv  that  the  degrees  ui  ich  T 
-ve  earned,  not  bought,  ,ual,i>  me  to  Tp  a"  o    your 

sa.n.  u  jrim  J^er^h:;:::^ 

.-.t  her  Iraniod  d,pl,„„a,  ai,d  aJd.d,  "To  jud.-o  toj  of 

c'on'ii^/ed  ■or      ,;  ..'^^Til    :.!??'  "•'  ^"'"•^'  '» 

„,„  .  •^'      **^" -i  "  nave  to  be  goun'     Staka 

"H  t.,  a  ,.,,..„„„  „„„„,   J  „,,^._^,_,^  lalk.Lo'n.uoht 

d.o  /to^'S'^  '""™!  ■^"'-  "'^  --"anee  was  ^^ 
uucea  to  i},lOO  a  month.     I  can't   rrpf   ^„„   .    ,■, 

ftough    of  ,t.     You're  ,ueh  a  s^^patheticltener 

Aor.kn„b       ",  "°  '"''■'""    "='  »»"''  «■-  °n  the 

uuur  KnoD.        bmce  vou  ve  notliinrT  +.  t 

-f5r:t^'iTf:e\°Lx.'-'---^ 

open  ""'  "'"""  ""^  "■'  ""-^k  when  she  tore  it 

s.;h;?.t:— :d£Lnra*:rt;::r 

pera.,„„  i„  „„  eyes.    "Oivo  „..-a  ,   .l'l°t  ^'e  • '"' 
The  Dago  Duke 's  tune  wa.  one  of  easy  friendliness 
All  you  need,  but  don't  fortrp-  +hl  """e^. 

hard  on  Essie  Tisdale."  ^       ^'  "^'P'^^'  ^^ 


XXVII 


ft 

I 


Essie  Tisuale's  Moment. 

Mrs.  Sylvanus  Stakk,  who  was  indisposed,  sat  up 
in  her  robe  dc  nuit  of  pink,  striped  outing-flannel 
and  looked  down  into  the  street. 

"Pearline,"  she  said  hastily,  "turn  the  dish-pan 
over  the  roast  beef  and  cache  the  oranges.  Plan- 
chette,  hide  the  cake  and  just  lay  this  swcjt  chocolate 
under  the  mattress — the  doctor's  coming." 

"She  cleaned  us  out  last  time  ail  right,"  com- 
mented Lucille. 

"Iler  legs  are  hollow,"  observed  Camille,  "she  can 
eat  half  a  sheep." 

"What's  half  a  sheep  to  a  growing  girl?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Starr  as  she  plucked  at  her  pompadour  and 
straightened  the  counterpane. 

The  Starrs  were  still  tittering  when  Dr.  Harpe 
walked  in.  Their  hilarity  quickly  passed  at  the  sight 
of  her  face.  Another  intelligence,  a  new  personality 
from  which  they  unconsciously  shrank  looked  at  them 
through  Dr.  Ilarpe's  familiar  features.  The  Starrs 
were  not  analytical  nor  given  to  psychology,  therefore 
it  was  no  subtle  change  which  could  make  them  stare. 
It  was  as  though  a  ruthless  hand  had  torn  away  a  mask 
disclosing  a  woman  who  only  resembled  some  one  they 
had  known.  She  was  a  trifle  more  than  thirty  and 
she  looked  to-day  a  haggard  forty-five. 

A  frravish  pallor  had  settled  upon  her  face,  and 
her  neck,  bv  the  simple  turning  of  her  head,  had  the 
lines  of  withered  old  acre.  Her  lips  were  colorless,  and 
dry,  and  drooped  in  a  kind  of  sneering  cruelty,  while 


804 


THE  LADY  DOC 


her  rc.stlo.s,s.  sUttcrin-  eyes  contained  the  malice  and 
desperation  of  a  vicons  animal  when  it's  cornered 
The  uneasiness  and  erratic  movements  of  a  user  of 
cocaine  was  in  her  manner. 

"What  ails  yon  now'/"    Hor  voice  wa:^  harsh  and 
Mrs.  Starr  fhished  at  the  ],lunt  question. 

She  saw  that  Dr.  Ilarpe  was  not  listenin.^  to  her 
reply. 

"Get  this  filled."    The  prescription  she  •   •  4e  and 
handed  her  was  scarcely  h-ihlo.     "  I'll  Ik;  i„  again." 
She  stalked  downstairs  without  more  words.  ° 
The  Starrs  looked  at  each  other  blankly  when  she 
had  frone. 

"What  s  the  matter  with  Dr.  Harpe?" 
Elsewhere  throughout  the  town  the  same  question 
was  being  asked.     The  elairv.yant  milliner  cautiously 
asked  the  baker's  wife  as  they  watched  her  turn  the 
rorner — • 

"Have    you    noticed    anything   queer   about    Dr 
Harpe?" 

There  was  that  about  her  wliieh  repe]l(>d,  and  those 
who  were  wont  to  pass  her  on  the  street  with  a  friendly 
flourish  of  the  hand  and  a  "Hello,  Doc,"  somehow 
omitted  It  and  substituted  a  nod  and  a  stare  of  curi- 
osity.      Her   swaggering   stride   of   assurance   was    a 
shamble,  and,  as  she  came  down  the  street  now  with 
her  head  down,  her  Stetson  pulled  low  over  her  eyes 
her  hand  thrust  deep  in  one  pocket  of  her  square  cut 
coat,  her  skirt  flapping  petticoatless  about  her    she 
looked  even  to  the  wife  of  the  baker,  who  liked  her  and 
to    the    clairvoyant    milliner,    who    imitated    her,    a 
caricature  upon  womankind. 

There  was  a  look  of  evil  upon  her  face  at  the 
moment  not  easy  to  describe.     She  and  Augusta  had 


KSSIi:  TISDALE'S  MOMENT 


805 


quarrelled— for  the   first  time — and  when  she  could 
least  affiird  to  quarrel. 

She  had  sp()I<en  often  of  Andy  P.  Symes  as  "the 
laziest  man  in  Cnns heart"  and  Au^'usta  always  had 
,i,M.<,'^ded ;  to-day  she  had  resented  it.  Was  it,  Dr. 
IIarp(!  asked  hera'lf,  that  she  was  losinj,'  control  of 
An^'nsta  heeause  she  wa.s  losinj?  her  own?  Nothing 
more  disastrous  eouki  happen  to  her  at  this  time  than 
to  lose  her  footin<^  in  tlu;  Symes  household.  Her  power 
over  Symes  went  with  her  prestif,'?,  for  her  word  would 
have  little  weif,dit  if  the  I)a<,'o  Duke  even  partially 
carried  out  his  threats.  Her  disclosure  would  appear 
but  the  last  resort  of  malice  and  receive  little  credence. 

As  she  walked  down  the  street  with  bent  head  she 
was  askintr  herself  if  the  props  wore  to  be  pulled  from 
beneath  her  one  by  one,  if  the  iuvisiole  lines  emanating 
from  her  own  acts  were  tightening  about  her  to  her 
undoing? 

With  a  fierce  gesture  she  pushed  those  thoughts 
from  her  as  tin  ugh  they  were  tangible  things.  No, 
no !  she  would  not  be  beaten  !  Insomnia,  narcotics  and 
stimulants  had  unnerved  her  for  the  time,  but  .she  w^as 
strong  enough  to  pull  herself  together  and  stay  the  cir- 
cumstances which  threatened  to  swamp  her  midway  in 
her  career.  Bolstered  for  the  moment  by  this  resolve, 
she  threw  back  her  head  and  raised  her  eyes. 

The  Dago  Duke,  Dan  Treu,  and  an  important  look- 
ing stranger  wer.  cros.sing  the  street  and  .s-he  felt 
intuitively  that  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  meeting  her 
face  to  face.  The  Dago  Duke  bowed  with  his  exag- 
gerated salutation  of  respect  as  they  passed,  the 
deputy-sheriff  with  an  odd  eonstraint  of  manner,  while 
the  stranger  who  raised  his  hat  in  formal  politeness 
gave  her  a  look  which  seemed  to  search  her  soul.  It 
•0 


in 


306 


thp:  lady  doc 


f  ghenedher.  Who  was  ho?  She  had  seen  him  at 
0  dDuboKss  funeral.  Was  he  some  new  faetor  to  be 
reckoned  with,  or  was  it  merely  her  erazy  nerves  that 
n.d.  her  see  fresh  danger  at  every  turn,  a  new  en  my 
ill  everj'  stranger?  ^ 

She  climbed  the  stairs  to  her  office  in  a  kind  of 
norvous  frenzy.     She  felt  like  sereamin,.,  like  beating 
upon  the  walls  with  her  bare  fist..     Inaction  was  no 
longer  possible.     She  must  do  something,   else  this 
agony  of  uncertainty  and  suspense  would  drive  her 
inad^    She  strode  up  and  down  at  a  pace  which  left 
her  breathless,  clenching  and  unclenching  her  hands 
whUe  thickly,  between  set  teeth,  she  raved  at  Essie 
iisdale,  upon  whom  her  venom  concentrated 

"I  could  thrott'e  her!"  She  looked  at  her  ctirved 
outspread  fingers,  tense  and  strong  as  steel  hooks  ' '  I 
could  choke  her  with  my  own  hands  till  she  is  black' 
Curse  her-curse  lier!  She's  been  a  stumbling  block 
in  my  way  ever  since  I  came.  The  sight  of  her  is  a 
needle  in  my  flesh.  I'd  only  want  a  minute  if  I  could 
get  my  fingers  on  her  throat!  I'd  shut  that  baby 
mouth  of  hers  for  good  and  all.  Ood !  How  I  hate 
her!"  She  hissed  the  words  in  venomous  intensity 
racked  with  the  strength  of  her  emotions,  weak  from 
It,  her  gha.stly  face  moist  with  perspiration 

"I've  humiliated  her!"  she  gasped.  "I've  made 
her  sutrer.  I've  downed  her.  but  there's  something 
left  yet  that  I  haven't  enished!  I'm  not  satisfied;  I 
haven  t  done  enough.  I  want  to  break  her  spirit,  to 
break  her  heart,  to  finish  her  for  all  time!" 

She  groped  for  the  door-knob  as  one  who  sees 
dimly,  and  all  but  ran  down  the  corridor.  Even  as 
she  went  the  thought  flashed  through  her  mind  that  she 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  MOMENT 


307 


was  making  a  fool  of  licrsolf,  that  sho  wfus  being  led 
by  an  impulse  for  whioh  she  would  be  sorrj-. 

But  .she  wa.s  at  a  i)it('h  where  the  voice  of  caution 
had  no  wcipht ;  she  wanted  what  she  wanted  and  in 
her  heart  she  knew  that  she  was  poing  to  Essie  Tisdale 
with  the  intention  of  iiitlicting  physical  pain.  Nothing 
less  would  satisfy  lur.  Yet,  when  the  <ioor  opened 
in  response  to  her  knock,  her  upper  lii)  stretched  in 
its  straight,  mirthless  smile. 

"Hello,  Ess!"'  She  stepped  back  a  bit  into  the 
dimly  lighted  corridor  and  the  girl  all  but  shrank  from 
the  malice  glowing  in   her  eyes. 

Essie  did  not  immediately  respond,  so  she  asked  in 
mock  humility — 

"Can't  I  come  in,  Mrs.  Dubois?" 

She  saw  the  girl  wince  at  the  name  by  which  no 
one  as  yet  had  called  her. 

"Why  this  timidity,  this  unexpected  politeness, 
when  it's  not  usual  for  you  even  to  knock?" 

She  step{)ed  inside  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

"True  enough,  Mrs.  Dubois,  but  naturally  a  poor 
country  doctor  like  me  would  hesitate  before  bolting 
in  upon  the  privacy  of  a  rich  widow." 

"If  you  use  'poor'  in  the  sense  of  incompetent  I 
am  afraid  I  must  agree  with  you,"  was  the  unexpected 
answer. 

"Ah,  beginning  to  feel  your  oats,  my  dear."  She 
slouched  into  the  nearest  chair  and  flung  her  hat  care- 
lessly upon  the  floor. 

"You  notice  it,  my  dear?"  mimicked  Essie  Tisdale. 

"When  a  range  oayuse  has  a  few  square  meals  he 
gets  onery." 

"While  they  merely  give  n  well-bred  horse  spirit." 

Dr.  Harpe  looked  at  her  searchindv.     Thprp  w.ns 


f  ■  , 


308 


THE  LADY  DOC 


a  fhange  in  Essio  Tisdalc.  Sho  ha.l  a  new  confld.MK-e 
of  mauiiiT,  I',  cool  poise  that  wa.s  older  than  li.  r  y.-ars, 
whilr  that  intanj,Mhle  sonu-lhint,'  which  she  could  never 
crush  looked  at  her  more  defiantly  than  ever  from  iho 
Rirl's  sparkling,'  eyes.  She  had  u  feelinj?  that  Essie 
Tisdale  ueleonie.l  her  coming'.  Certainly  lier  assur- 
ranee  and  animation  wa.s  strangely  at  varianee  with 
her  precarious  positon.  What  had  happened?  Dr. 
Ilarpe  inlend.-d  to  learn  before  she  left  the  room. 

"At  any  rate  you've  paid  lii^'h  for  your  oats,  Ess," 
she  said  finally. 

The  ^'irl  a<,'reed  coolly — 

"Very." 

"And  youVo  not  done  payin-"  she  added 
sij^nificiintly. 

"That  remains  to  bo  seen." 
Dr.  Ilarpe 's  eyes  narrowed  in  thouprht. 
"E.ss,"  in  a  patron iziuji?  drawl,  "why  don't  you 
pull    your    freight?      I'll    advance   you    the    money 
myself."  ^ 

"Kun  away?    Why?" 

"You're  going  to  be  arrested— that's  a  straight  tip 
You  may  get  of}',  but  think  what  you'll  have  to  go 
through  first.  Skip  till  things  simmer  down.  Thev'll 
not  go  after  you." 

The  girl  fla.shed  a  smile  of  real  merriment  at  her 
which  almost  cost  Dr.  Ilarpe  her  self-control.  The 
young  and  now  glowing  beaut-  of  the  girl  before  her 
the  unconscious  air  of  superiority  an.l  confidence 
which  had  its  wellspring  in  some  mysterious  source 
was  maddening  to  her.  The  interview  was  taxin-  her 
self-control  to  the  limit  and  she  felt  that  in  some  inex- 
plicable way  the  tables  were  turning. 

You— won 't  go,  then  ? "    Her  voice  held  n 


mpnapn 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  MOMENT 


Ji09 


"WLy  should  I,  siiiw  I  ftiii  iiiuufont?  Tako  a 
vnontion  yourself,  Dr.  llarpt',  with  the  moui-y  you 
BO  ^'I'lKTously  otlVr  iiif.     Vou  need  it." 

She  followed  the  k'tI's  daneiiij,'  eyes  to  the  mirror 
opposite  which  was  tilt^-d  so  that  it  reflected  the  whole 
of  her  mu'outh  pose.  Slid  I'iir  down  in  tlu-  chair  with 
her  heels  restintr  on  the  lloor  and  wrinklni^'  hose 
exposed  above  her  boottops,  a  knot  of  dull,  red  hair 
slipped  to  one  side  with  shorter  ends  hunf^inj.,'  in  di- 
shevehnenl  about  her  i'ace,  she  looked  the  thouu'ht 
was  her  own— like  i'  drab  of  the  streets  in  the  ma^'is- 
trato's  court  in  the  mornini,'.  She  wa.s  startled,  shocked 
by  her  own  appearance.  Was  .she,  Emma  llarpe,  as 
old,   as    ha};^'ard,   as   evil-looking   as   that! 

She  had  clunj?  with  peculiar  twiacity  to  the  hallu- 
cination that  she  still  had  youthful  chann  of  face  and 
fi^mre.  As  she  stared,  it  .seemed  as  though  the  sand 
was  slidinf,'  a  little  faster  from  beneath  her  feet.  She 
shoved  the  loose  knot  of  hair  to  its  place  and  straight- 
ened hirself.  firowinp  hot  at  the  realization  that  she 
had  betrayed  to  Essie  Tisdale  something  of  her 
consternation. 

She  turned  upon  her  fiercely — 
"Look  here,  Es.s,  if  you  want  to  be  friends  with 
me,  and  have  my  influence  to  get  you  out  of  this  mess, 
you'd  better  change  your  tactics." 

"Haven't  I  yet  made  it  clear  to  you  that  I  care 
no  more  for  your  friendship  than  for  your  enmity? 
Do  you  imaerine  that  you  can  friphten  likinr^,  or  force 
respect  after  the  occasion  which  we  both  remember?" 
"There's  one  thins?  I  can  do — T  can  make  Crow- 
heart  too  hot  to  bold  you!"  Il^r  grip  on  herself  was 
goinjr  fast. 


310 


THE  LADY  DOC 


herself  to  her  slim  height  while  she  looked  at  her  in 
contemptuous  silence. 

"I  know  there  is  no  low  thing  to  which  you  would 
not  stoop  to  make  {,'ood  your  boast.  You  make  me 
think  of  a  viper  that  has  exhausted  its  venom.  You 
have  the  disposition  to  strike,  but  you  no  longer  have 
the  j)ower. " 

"You  think  not?  And  why?  Do  you  ima-ine  that 
your  position  in  Crowheart  will  be  changed  one  iota 
by  the  fact  that  you've  got  a  few  dollars  that  arc  red 
with  blood?"  She  flung  the  taunt  at  her  with  savage 
insolence. 

"My  position  in  Crowheart  is  of  no  importance  to 
me.  But' —her  voice  cut  like  finely  tempered  ateel— 
"don't  goad  me  too  far.  Don't  forg,>t  that  T  know 
you  for  what  you  are— a  moral  plague— creeping  like 
a  pestilence  among  people  who  are  not  familiar  with 
your  face.  I  know,  and  you  know  that  I  know  you 
are  in  no  position,  Dr.  Ilarpe,  to  point  a  finger  at  the 
commonest  women  in  the  dance  hall  below." 

The  woman  sprang  from  her  chair  and  walked  to 
her  with  the  crouching  ^  viftness  of  a  previnir  animal 
She  gra.sped  E.ssie  TisdJe's  wrist  in  a"  grip  which 
left  its  imprint  for  hours  after. 
"IIow  dare  you!" 
Essie  Tisdale  raised  her  chin  hi^'her. 
"How  dare   I?"     She  smiled""ia  the   infuriated 
woman's  face.    "It  takes  no  courage  for  me  to  oppose 
you  now.     When  T  was  a  biscuit-shooter  here,  a.s  you 
lost  no  opportunity  to  remind  me.  you  loomed  larg*^' 
That  time   has  -one  by.      Crowheart   will   kno\v'  you 
some  day  as  I  laiow  you.    Your  name  will  },c  a  byword 
m  every  saloon  and  bunk- house  in  the  country'" 
"Ul  kill  you  V 


ESSIE  TISDALE'S  MOMENT 


Sll 


i  I 


The  tense  fingers  were  curved  like  steel  hooks  as 
she  sprang  for  Essie  Tisdale's  slender  throat,  but 
even  as  the  girl  shoved  her  chair  between  them  a 
masculine  voice  called  "Esther"  and  a  rap  came  upon 
the  door. 

Doctor  Harpc  '3  arms  dropped  to  her  side  and  she 
clutched  handfuls  of  her  skirt  as  she  struggled  for 
self-control. 

Essie  Tisdale  walked  swiftly  to  the  door  and  threw 
it  wide.  The  towering  stninger  stood  in  the  corridor 
looking  in  amazement  from  one  woman  to  the  other. 

The  girl  turned  and  said  with  careful  distinctness: 

"You  have  been  so  occupied  of  late  that  perhaps 
you  have  not  heard  the  news.  My  uncle — Mr.  Richard 
Kincaid — Dr.  Harpe," 


m 


ij 


XXVIIl 

The  Sweetest  Thing  in  the  World 

Dr.  IIarpe  standing  at  her  office  window  saw  the 
lovely  Pearlinp  Starr,  curled  and  dressed  at  ten  in  the 
morning,  trip  down  tlie  street  bearing  a  glass  of 
buffalo  berry  jelly  in  her  white-gloved  hands,  while 
JNIrs.  Percy  Parrott  sitting  erect  in  the  Parrotts'  new, 
scc.iiul-hand  surrey,  drove  toward  th(>  hotel,  carefully 
protecting  from  accident  some  prized  package  which 
she  held  in  her  lap.  Mrs.  Parrott  was  wearing  her  new 
ding-a-ling  hat,  grass-green  in  color,  which,  topping 
off  the  moss-colored  serge  which,  closely  fitting  her 
attenuated  figure,  gave  Mrs.  J'arrott  a  surprising  re- 
semblance to  a  katydid  about  to  jump. 

Dr  IIarpe  could  not  see  Mrs.  Abe  Tutts  walking 
gin.eeriy  across  lots  carrying  a  pot  of  baked  beana 
ana  brown  bread  in  her  two  hands,  nor  Mrs.  Alva 
Jackson  panting  up  another  street  with  a  Lady  Balti- 
more cake  in  the  hope  of  reaching  the  hotel  before  her 
dearest  friend  and  enemy  Mrs.  Tutts,  but  Dr.  IIarpe 
knew  from  what  she  already  had  seen  and  from  the 
curious  glances  cast  at  the  windows  of  the  Terriberry 
House,  that  the  town  was  agog  with  Essie  Tisdale'a 
romantic  story  and  her  newly  established  relationship 
to  the  important  looking  stranger.  Mrs.  Terriberry 
could  be  trusted  to  attend  to  that  and  in  her  capable 
hands  it  was  certain  to  lose  nothing  in  the  telling. 

The  story  was  simple  enough  in  it-elf  and  had  its 
cor.nterpart  in  many  towns  throughout  the  West. 
Young  Dick  Kincaid  had  run  away  from  his  home 
on  the  bank  of  the  Mississippi  River  to  make  his 
fortune  in  the  mining  camps  of  the  far  West.    He  did 

3ii 


THE  SWEETEST  THING 


313 


not  write,  because  the  fortune  was  always  just  a  little 
farther  on.  The  months  slipped  into  years,  and  when 
he  returned  with  the  "stake"  which  was  to  be  his 
peace  otTering,  the  name  of  Kincaid  wa-  but  a  memory 
in  the  community,  and  the  restless  Mississippi  with  its 
ever-changing  channel  fluwed  over  the  valuable  trad 
of  black-walnut  timber  which  had  constituted  the 
financial  resources  of  the  Kineaids.  The  little  sister 
had  married  a  westerner  as  poor  as  he  was  picturesque, 
and  against  her  parents'  wishes.  They  had  gone, 
never  to  be  heard  from  again,  disappeared  mysteri- 
ously and  completely,  and  Samuel  Kincaid  had  died, 
he  and  his  wife,  as  much  of  loneliness  and  longing  as 
of  age. 

The  triumphant  return  of  his  boyish  dreams  was, 
instead,  an  acute  and  hauntiig  remorse.  The  success 
that  had  been  his,  the  success  that  was  to  be  his  in  the 
near-by  city,  never  erased  the  bitter  disappoii '^ment 
of  that  home-coming.  lie  had  searched  in  vain  for 
some  trace  of  the  little  sister  whom  he  had  loved.  He 
bad  never  given  up  hoping  and  that  hope  had  had 
its  weight  in  influencing  him  to  make  the  tedious  tiip 
to  Crowheart. 

And  then,  as  though  the  Fates  had  punished  him 
enough  for  his  filial  neglect,  his  sister's  eyes  had 
looked  out  at  him  from  the  flower-like  face  at  the 
funeral  of  old  Edouard  Dubois.  He  had  followed  up 
his  impulse,  and  the  rest  is  quickly  told,  for  all  Crow- 
heart  knew  the  story  of  Essie  Tisdale's  miraculous 
rescue  and  of  the  picture  primer  which  had  furnished 
the  single  clue  to  her  identity. 

With  the  n«ws  of  Essie  Tisdale's  altered  position — 
and  Mrs.  Ten'iberry  missed  no  opportunity  to  convey 
the  iniDression  that  Kincaid 's  re.ioiircps  wptp  iinlini^ 


314 


THE  L 


DOC 


ited  -the  tide  turned  and  the  Nuffalo  berry  jelly,  the 
Lady  Baltimore  cake,  baked  l)eaus  and  Mrs.  Parrott's 
tinned  lobster  salad,  were  the  straws  which  in  Crow- 
heart  always  showed  which  way  the  wind  was  blowing. 
That  the  ladies  bearing  these  toothsome  offerings  had 
not  been  speaking  to  Essie  for  some  months  past  was 
a  small  matter  which  they  deemed  best  to  forget. 
Not  so  IMrs.  Terri!)i'rry. 

Mrs.  Terriberry  not  only  had  Essie  Tisdale's  score 
to  pay  off  bu.  lier  own  as  well,  and  who  knows  but 
that  the  latter  was  the  sharper  incentive?  To  have 
been  obliged  to  watch  throuL'h  a  crack  in  the  curtain 
the  fashionable  world  rustle  by  on  its  way  to  Mrs. 
Alva  Jackson's  euchre  had  occasioned  a  pan^r  not 
easily  forgotten.  To  have  knowledge  of  the  rao^nthly 
meetings  of  Mrs.  Parrott's  Shadow  Embroidery  Class 
only  through  the  Society  Column  of  the  Crowheart 
Courier  and  to  be  deprived  of  the  privilege  of  hearing 
Mrs.  Abe  Tutts's  paper  upon  AVagnerian  music  at  the 
Culture  Club  were  slights  that  rankled. 

She  was  suspiciously  close  at  hand  when  the  ladies 
appeared  in  the  office  of  the  Terriberry  House  with 
their  culinarv'  successes;  also  she  was  wearing  the 
red  foulard  which  never  went  out  of  the  closet  except 
to  funerals  and  important  functions. 

Althou^^h  the  most  conspicuous  thing  about  these 
early  callers  was  the  parcels  they  carried,  Jlrs.  Terri- 
berry chose  to  ignore  them. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  IMrs.  Parrott,  and  Ihsa 
Starr,  too.  It's  a  lovely  day  to  be  out,  isn't  it?" 
Her  voice  was  distinctly  patronizing  and  she  extended 
a  langu  J  hand  to  Mrs.  Jackson.  "And  usin'  your 
brain  like  you  do,  Mrs.  Tutts,  writin'  them  pieces  for 


THE  SWEETEST  THING 


315 


"I've  brought  Essie  some  lobster  saind  from  a  re- 
eeipt  that  mamma  sent  me,"  said  Mrs.  Parrott  when 
she  could  get  an  opening,  "and  while  it's  canned 
lobster,  it's  really  delicious!" 

"The  whites  of  sixteen  aigs  I  put  in  this  Lady- 
Baltimore  cake,  and  it's  light  as  a  feather." 

Mrs.  Terriberry  made  no  offer  to  take  the  package 
which  IMrs.  Jackson  extended. 

"Just  a  little  taste  of  buffalo  berry  jelly  for  Essie," 
said  Miss  Starr,  with  her  most  radiant  smile.  "Her 
uncle  might  enjoy  it." 

"I  ain't  forgot,"  soid  Mrs.  Tutts,  "how  fond  Ess 

IS  of  brown  bread,  so  I  says  to  myself  I'll  just  take 

some  of  my  baked  beans  along,  too.    Tutt.s  says  I  beat 

the  world  on  baked  beans.    Where 's  Ess  ?    I  'd  like  to 

Gee  her. ' ' 

"Yes;  tell  her  we're  here."  chorused  the  others. 
Mrs.  Terriberry 's  moment  had  come.     She  drew 
herself  up  in  a  pose  of  hauteur  which  a  stout  person 
can  only  achieve  with  practice. 

"Miss  Tisdale,"  she  replied  with  glib  gusto,  "ig 
engaged  at  present  and  begs  to  be  excused.  But," 
she  added  in  words  which  were  obviously  her  own, 
"you  can  pnt  your  junk  in  the  closet  over  there  with 
the  rest  that's  come." 


!l 


Dr.  Harpe  understood  perfectly  now  the  meaning 
of  the  Dago  Duke's  confident  smile  and  the  stranger's 
cold,  searching  look  of  enm.ity.  He  was  no  weakling, 
this  new-found  relative  of  Essie  Tisdale 's,  and  the 
Dago  Duke's  threats  were  no  longer  empty  boastings. 

If  only  she  could  sleep !  Sleep  ?  "Was  it  days  or 
weeks  since  she  had  slept?  Forebodings,  suspicions  of 
tnooc  whom  slic-  hau  been  forced  to  trust,  Neii  Bee- 


316 


THE  LADY  DOC 


croft,  Lamb,  and  others,  were  spectres  that  frightened 
sleep  from  her  strained  eyes.  A  tight  band  seemed 
stretched  across  her  forehead.  She  rubbed  it  hard,  as 
though  to  lessen  the  tension.  There  \vj>s  a  dull  aehe  at 
the  base  of  her  brain  and  she  shook  her  head  to  free 
herself  from  it,  bu+  the  jar  hurt  her. 

Some  one  whisiled  in  the  corridor.     She  listened. 
"Farewell,  my  own  dear  Xapoji,  Farewell  to  Thee 

Farewell  to  Thee "     How  she  hated  that  song! 

The  Dago  Duke  was  coming  for  his  answer. 

He  stood  before  her  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  the 
other  hand  resting  on  his  hip  smiling,  confident,  the 
one  long,  black  lock  of  hair  han<riiig  nearly  in  his  eyes. 
He  made  no  comment,  but  she  saw  that  he  was  nothi- 
the  ravages  which  the  intervening  hours  had  left  in 
her  face.  Beneath  his  smile  there  was  somethin<,'  hard 
and  pitiless— a  look  thjt  the  executioner  of  a  de  Medici 
might  have  worn— and  for  a  moment  it  put  her  at  a 
loss  for  words.  Then  with  an  attempt  at  her  old-time 
camaraderie,  she  shoved  a  glass  toward  him— 

His  white  teeth  flashed  in  a  fleeting  smilo— 

"If  you  will  join  me— in  my  la.st  drink?" 

For  answer  she  filled  his  glass  and  hers. 

He  raised  it  and  looked  at  her. 

"I  give  you— the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world." 

Her  lip  curled. 

"Love?" 

His  black  eyes  gUttered  between  their  narrowed 
lids. 

"The  power  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the  helpless." 
He  set  down  his  empty  glass  and  fumbled  in  his 

pocket  for  a  paper  which  he  handed  her  to  read. 

"It's  always  well  to  know  what  you're  signing," 

he  said,  and  hp  wnfniiori  Vir.^  -Fo^,^  —  i „  /»  n j 


JHE  SWEETEST  THING 


317 


the  lines,  with  the  intent  yet  impersonal  scrutiny  of  a 
specialist  studyinf^  his  case. 

She  looked,  as  she  read,  like  a  corpse  that  has  been 
propped  to  a  sitting?  position,  vith  nostrils  sunken  and 
lips  of  Parian  marble.  Ilcr  nand  shook  with  a  vio- 
lence which  recalled  her  to  herself,  and  when  she 
raised  her  eyes  they  looked  as  thougli  the  iris  itself 
had  faded.  The  Dago  Duke  seemed  absorbed  in  the 
curious  effect. 

He  could  hear  the  dryness  of  hor  mouth  when  she 
asked  at  last — 

"You  expect  me — to  put  my  name— to  this?" 

He  inclined  his  head. 

"It  is — impussible!" 

He  replied  evenly: 

"It  is  necessary." 

"You  are  asking  me  to  sign  my  own  death 
warrant." 

He  hfted  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  your  reputation  or  Essie  Tisdale's. " 

The  name  seemed  to  prick  her  like  a  goad.  Her 
hands  and  body  twitched  nervously  and  then  he  saw 
swift  de"  i:  oa  arrive  in  her  face. 

"I'll  not  do  it!" 

As  moved  by  a  common  impulse  they  arose. 

"It's  the  lesser  of  two  evils." 

"I  don't  care!"  She  reiterated  in  a  kind  of  hope- 
less desperation,  "I  don't  care — I'll  fight!" 

He  eyed  her  again  with  a  recurrence  of  his  im- 
personal professional  scrutiny. 

"You  can't  go  through  it,  Doc;  you  haven't  the 
stamina  any  more.  You  don't  know  what  yoTi're  up 
against,  for  I  haven't  half  showed  my  hand.    I  have 


i/ciouiaai  giicvttiice,  its  ^uu  Kuow,  Dut  ifle  wrongs 


318 


THE  LADV  DOC 


ol'  my  countrynu'ii  an-  my  \vron','s,  ami  for  your  bru- 
tality to  them  you  shall  answer  to  iin'.  Fi','ht  if  you 
will,  but  when  you're  done,  you'll  not  disgrace  your 
profession  a^'ain  in  this  or  any  other  State." 

While  this  scene  was  oceurrini,'  iu  Doctor  Ilarpe's 
office,  Andy  P.  Symes  in  his  office  was  toyinj,'  im- 
patiently with  an  unopened  letter  from  Mud.sje  as  Mr. 
I'ercy  Parrott,  hat  in  hand,  stood  before  him. 

'*It's  not  that  I'm  worried  at  all,  :Mr.  Symes" 

every  line  of  I'arrott's  face  was  deep-lined  with  anx- 
iety as  he  spoke— "l)ut,  of  course,  I've  made  you 
these  loans  largely  upon  my  own  responsibility,  I've 
exceeded  my  authority,  in  fact,  and  any  failure  on 
your  part "  Mr.  Parrott  finding  himself  flounder- 
ing under  Symes's  cc-ld  gaze  blurted  out  desperately, 
"Well,  'twould  break  us!" 

"Certainly,  certainly,  I  know  all  that,  but,  really, 
these  fre(iueut  duns— this  Ilomeseekers'  Excursion 
has  put  me  behind  with  my  work,  but  as  soon  as  things 

are  straightened  out  again " 

"Oh,  of  course.     That  s  all  right.     I  understand, 

Dut  as  soon  as  you  conveniently  can " 

Mr.  Parrott 's  lengthened  jaw  rested  between  the 
"white  wings"  of  his  collar  as  he  turned  away.  It 
might  have  reached  his  shirt-stud  had  he  known  the 
number  of  creditors  that  had  preceded  him. 

Even  Symes's  confident  assurances  that  the  com- 
plete failure  of  the  Iloraeseekers'  Excursion  was  rela- 
tively a  small  matter,  could  not  entirely  eradicate 
from  the  minds  of  Crowheart's  merchants  the  picture 
presented  by  the  procession  of  excursionists  return- 
ing with  their  satchels  to  the  station,  glowering  at 
Crowheart's  citizens  as  they  passed  and  making  loud 
charges  of  misrepresentation  and  fraud. 


THE  SWEETEST  THING 


819 


^Vhon  the  door  closed  behind  him  Symes  dropped 
the  oatch  that  he  might  rend  Madge's  bulky  letter 
undisturbed.  Mudge's  diction  was  ever  open  to  criti- 
cism, but  he  had  a  faculty  for  conveying  his  meaning 
which  genius  well  might  envy. 

The  letter  read : 


My  DEAK  Symes: 

Are  you  the  damnedest  fool  or  the  biggest  scoundrel  out  of 
jail?     Write   and   l<t   nie   know. 

I  told  you  there  was  .■ioinething  wrong;  that  some  out- 
side influence  as  (juoeiing  us  all  along  the  line  and  I  let 
myself  be  talked  out  of  my  conviction  by  you  instead  of 
getting  busy  and  liiiding  out  the  truth. 

The  stock  and  bond-holders  have  had  a  meeting  and  are 
going  to  ask  the  court  to  aj)point  a  Receiver,  and  when  he 
gets  tiirough  with  us  we  '11  cut  as  much  ice  in  the  affairs  of 
the  Company  as  two  office-boys,  with  no  cause  for  complaint 
if  we  keep  out  of  jail. 

There's  been  a  high-priced  engineer  dolnj^  detective  work 
on  the  project  for  days  and  his  report  would  n't  be  apt  to 
swell  your  head.  Tlie  bond-holders  know  more  about  the 
Symes  Irrigation  Company  and  conditions  under  the  project 
than  I  ever  did. 

They  know  that  your  none  too  perfect  water-right  won't 
furnish  water  for  a  third  cf  the  land  under  the  ditch.  They 
know  that  if  you  had  every  water-right  on  the  river  that 
there's  some  ten  thousand  acres  of  high  land  that  could  n't 
be  reached  with  a  fire-hose.  Tliey  know  that  there  's  another 
thousand  or  so  where  the  soil  is  n't  deep  enough  to  grow 
radishes,  let  alone  sugar-beets.  They  know,  too,  that  instead 
of  the  $250,000  of  your  estimate  to  complete  the  ditch  it  will 
require  nearly  half  a  million,  and  they're  on  to  the  fact 
that  in  order  to  get  this  estimate  you  cut  your  own 
engineer's  figures  in  two,  and  then  some,  upon  the  cost  of 
making  cuts  nnd  handling  loose  rock. 

Rough  work,  Symes,  raw  even  for  a  green  hand.  You  've 
left  a  trail  of  blood  a  yard  wide  behind  you. 

X  u~v*ii.Tiiii/rc,   ziic  report  vontrtin^ru   iHc   jiiluiuiulion   that 


320 


THE  LADY  DOC 


the  wide  bijsine.s.s  exivroiioe  wliich  you  lost  no  occasion  to 
mention  conHist<>d  chiclly  of  standing  olF  y,.ur  creditors  in 
various  soctions   of  the   country. 

I  trust  tiiiit  1  liiive  niado  it  (juite  plain  to  you  that  we  're 
down  and  out.  I  have  about  as  much  wci-,'ht  in  financial 
circles  as  a  sec  ond-story  man,  and  am  rog;ardfd  in  much  the 
r^aiiic  lij;ht,  while  you  arc  i-s  important  as  a  ciphi-r  without 
the    rim. 

And  the  man  Ix-hind  nil  thi?,  tho  liirfro>it  hnnd  holder,  the 
fellow  that  has  iiullcd  the  .strinjjs,  is  not  the  Fly-Trap  King, 
or  even  J.  Collins  PrcMcott,  but  the  man  he  works  for,  Ogden 
Van  Leunop,  wliose  i)resent  addre-s  hapjiens  to  be  C'rowheart. 

Wl.nfs  tiie  answer?  Why  has  a  man  like  Van  "  nnop 
who  is  there  on  the  ground  and  has  long  been  famili...-  with 
conditions,  why  has  he  become  the  lari,'e>t  inve-tor?  Why 
should  he  tie  up  money  in  a  project  wliich  the  engineer  re- 
ports will  never  pay  more  than  a  minimum  rate  of  interest 
upon  the  investment  even  when  the  Company  is  re  organized 
and  the  ditch  pushed  to  completion  under  economical  and 
capable  management?  Why  has  he  come  in  the  Company  for 
the  one  purpose  of  wrecking  it?  Why  has  lie  stuck  the  knife 
l)otwcen  your  short  rilis  mine— and  turned   it?     V/hat '3 

the  answer,  SjTiies,  you  must  know? 

We  might  as  well  buck  the  Ikrk  of  England  as  the  Van 
Lennops,  or  match  our  wits  against  the  Secret  Service. 
They've  got  us  roped  and  tied  and  I'd  advise  you  not  to 
squeal. 

Truly  yours, 

S.  B.  MODGE 

Symes  laid  down  the  letter  and  smoothed  it  care- 
fully, settinp:  a  small  brass  croeodile  exactly  in  the 
centre,  ^^'ipinj^:  his  clammy  palms  upon  one  of  the 
handkerchiefs  purchased  on  his  wedding  tour,  the  tex- 
ture of  which  always  gave  him  a  pleasurable  sense 
of  refinpment  and  well-being,  he  read  again  the  line 
which  showed  below  the  paper-weight : 


There's  ono  thinfT  riit-a tx-n 


I 


THE  SWEETEST  THING 


aai 


Symos's  head  sunk  weakly  forward.  Down  and 
out!    Not  even  Mu'ltre  know  how  far  down  and  out! 

Stripped  of  the  lu)pc  of  success,  robbed  of  the  posi- 
tion which  he  had  made  for  Iiimself,  his  self-esteem 
punctured,  his  home-life  a  mockery,  no  Ionj?er  younj? — 
it  was  the  eombination  which  makes  a  man  whose 
vanity  is  his  sfreiiirth,  lose  his  j.'rip.  To  be  little  where 
he  had  been  bij^';  to  be  the  object  of  his  ruined  neigh- 
bors' scorn — nu'ii  have  blown  their  brains  out  in  his 
mood,  and  for  less. 

What  Mudj^'e  and  the  Company  refjarded  as  wilful 
misrepresentations  had  in  the  be^'inniu},'  been  due  to 
inexperience  and  ignorance;  of  an  undertakinj?  which 
it  required  scientific  knovvled^'o  to  successfully  carry 
out.  When  the  truth  bail  been  gradually  borne  in 
upon  him  as  the  work  progressed,  he  felt  that  it  was 
too  late  to  explain  or  retract  if  he  would  raise  more 
money  and  keep  his  position.  The  real  cost  he  believed 
would  frighten  possible  investors  and  with  the  peculiar 
sanguincness  of  the  short-sighted,  he  thought  that  it 
would  work  out  somehow. 

And  all  had  gone  well  until  Mudge's  unheeded 
warning  had  come  that  some  subtle  but  formidable 
influence  was  at  work  to  their  undoing. 

The  dull  red  of  mortification  crept  slowly  over 
Symes's  face  as  he  realized  that  Ogden  Van  Lennop, 
before  whom  he  had  boasted  of  his  lineage,  and  patron- 
ized, was  a  conspicuous  member  of  a  family  whose 
name  was  all  but  a  household  word  throughout  the 
land! 

But  why,  Symes  asked  the  question  that  JIudge  had 
asked,  why  should  Van  Lennop  thrust  the  knife  be- 
tween his  short  ribs — and  turn  it?  It  could  not  be 
because  Vau  Lieiiiiup  uau  icseuied  his  patrouage  auU 
•1 


822 


THE  LADY  DOC 


his  vaporings  to  any  Hu<'h  extent  as  this;  ho  was  not 
that  kind.  No;  he  had  been  touched  deeper  than  his 
pride  or  any  petty  vanity. 

Another  question  like  an  answer  to  his  first  flashed 
through  his  mind.  Could  it  be— wa.s  it  possible  that 
his  attentions  to  Essie  Tisdale,  the  biscuit-shooter  of 
the  Terriberry  House,  had  been  sincere? 

Symcs  rose  in  sudden  excitement  and  paced  the 
floor. 

He  believed  it  was!  The  belief  grew  to  conviction 
and  he  dropped  again  into  his  ehair.  If  this  was  it 
he  need  expect  no  quarter.  As  his  thoughts  flashed 
back  over  the  past  the  fact  began  to  stand  out  clearly 
that  nearly  every  unfriendly  act  he  had  shown  the 
girl  had  been  instigated  by  Doctor  Harpe  and  accom- 
plished through  Augusta. 

"That  woman!"  The  veins  swelk..  in  his  temples. 
"Always  that  woman!"  and  as  though  in  answer  to 
her  name  he  saw  her  pass  the  window  and  shake  the 
latched  door. 

"Let  nie  in !"    It  was  a  peremptory  demand. 

Symes  threw  the  catch  back  hard. 

"Yes,  Dr.  Harpe,  I'll  let  you  in.  I've  busincw 
with  you.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  want  to  see 
you."  His  tone  was  brutal.  "Sit  down!"  He  laid 
his  huge  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and  thrust  her  into 
a  chair. 

Towering  above  her  in  the  red-faced,  loud-\oiced 
fury  of  a  man  who  has  lost  his  self-control,  he  shouted: 

"I  want  you  to  get  out !  To  quit !  To  leave  this 
town!  Twenty-four  hours  I'll  give  you  to  get  your 
traps  together.  Do  you  hear?  If  you  don't,  so  help 
me  God,  I'll  put  you  where  you  belong!  Don't 
spenic"  he  rniscl  liie  Imn/l  or.  +'iw^.,-.i,  *„  * x.n  i.  . 


HK  LAID  Ills  lir(;K  HAM)   I   P()\   IIKH  SIIoii.dkh  AM)  TIIUl  rtT  IIKU 
INTO  A  (  IIAIH 


THE  SWEETEST  THING 


323 


"lest  I  forget  your  sex."  He  went  on,  inarticulate 
with  passion:  "I've  protected  you  as  long  as  I  can- 
as  long  as  I'm  going  to.  Do  you  understand?  I'm 
done.  I 've  got  some  little  self-respect  left ;  not  much, 
but  enough  to  see  me  through  this.  And  you  can  tell 
Augusta  Symes  that  if  she  wants  to  go,  every  door  is 
open  wide!    Tell  her— tell  her  that  for  me!" 

He  stopped,  choked  with  the  violence  of  his  feel- 
ings, and  in  the  pause  which  follov  ed  she  sat  looking 
up  at  him  unmoved.  The  shock  seemed  to  quiet  her. 
Then,  too,  it  Avas  so  like  another  scene  indelibly  en- 
graved upon  her  memory  that  she  wanted  to  laugh- 
actually  to  laugh.  Yet  Symes 's  violence  cut  her  less 
than  had  the  cool,  impersonal  voice  of  the  coroner  back 
there  in  that  little  Nebraska  town.  She  found  his 
blazing  eyes  far  easier  to  meet  than  the  cold  unfriend- 
liness in  the  gaze  of  the  man  who  had  delivered  that 
other  ultimatum.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  be- 
lieved she  had  less  to  fear.  Symes  dared  not— dared 
not,  she  told  herself — enforce  his  threats. 

Symes  read  something  of  this  thought  in  her  face 
and  it  maddened  him.  Was  it  not  possible  to  make 
her  comprehend?  Was  she  really  so  callous,  so  thick- 
skinned  that  she  was  immune  from  insult?  His  hand 
dropped  once  more  upon  her  shoulder. 

"I'm  ruined — do  you  understand?"  He  shook 
her.  "  I  'm  down  and  out.  I  'm  broke ;  and  so  is  Crow- 
heart!"  She  winced  under  his  tightening  grip.  "  The 
smash  was  due  when  Van  Lennop  said  the  word. 
He's  said  it."  He  felt  her  start  at  the  name  and 
there  was  something  like  fear  in  her  face  at  last. 
"Van  Lennop,"  he  reiterated,  "Van  Lennop  that 
you've  made  my  enemy  to  gratify  your  peisunal  spite 
and  iealousv."    ITo  eontinijpd  tVn-mirrV.  n^^^^■l,^.l  i._xi. 


3it4> 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"From  the  beginning  you've  used  me  to  further 
your  petty  ends.  It's  plain  enough  to  me  now,  for, 
with  all  your  fancied  cleverness,  you're  transparent 
as  a  window-pane  when  one  understands  you're  char- 
acter. You've  silenced  me,  I  admit  it,  and  black- 
mailed me  through  my  pride  and  ambition,  but  you've 
reached  the  limit.  You  can't  do  it  any  more.  Fve 
none  left. 

"You  expect  to  cling  to  my  coat-tails  to  keep 
yourself  up.  You  look  to  my  position  for  shelter, 
but  let  me  make  it  clear  to  you  that  you  can't  hide 
behind  my  prestige  and  my  position  any  longer.  You 
human  sponge!  You  parasite!  Do  you  think  I'm 
blind  because  I've  been  dumb?  Go!  you— degene- 
rate!    By  God!   you  go  before  I  kill  you!" 

In  his  insane  fury  he  pulled  her  to  her  feet  by 
the  shoulders  of  her  loose-cut  coat  where  sh(^  stood 
looking  at  him  uncertainly,  her  faded  eyes  set  in  a 
gray  mask. 

"See  her%  Mr.  Symes,  see  here "  she  said  in 

a  kind  of  vague  iK^lligerence. 

Symes  pushed  her  toward  the  door  as  Adolph 
Kunkcl  passed. 

"Will  you  go?  "  Symes  shouted. 

She  turned  on  the  sidewalk  and  faced  him.  The 
gray  mask  .vore  a  sneer. 

"Not  alone." 

"Ili,  Doc!"'  Kunkel  pointed  to  a  straight,  black 
pillar  of  smoke  rising  at  the  station,  and  yelled  in 
local  parlance:  "Look  then.!  Your  beau's  come 
That's  the  Van  Lennop  Special!  " 


XXIX 


"The  Bitter  End" 

"She    ain't    here."     Nell   Beecroft,    with   arms 
akimbo,  blocked  the  hospital  door. 
"Upon  your  honor,  Nell?" 

She  looked  the  sheriff  sciuarely  in  the  eyes. 

"Upon  my  honor,  Dan." 

She  saw  the  doubt  lying  behind  his  look,  but  she 
did  not  flinch. 

"When  she  comes,  send  me  word.  No,"  on  sec- 
ond thought, ' '  you  needn  't ;  I  '11  be  back. ' '  He  tapped 
the  inside  pocket  of  his  coat  significantly.  "  I  want 
to  see  Dr.  Ilarpe  most  particular." 

"  I  '11  tell  her, ' '  the  woman  answered  shortly.  She 
watched  him  down  the  street.  "He  knows  I'm 
lyin',"  she  muttered,  and  though  the  heat  was  un- 
usual, she  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

The  muffled  sound  of  beating  fists  drew  her  to  the 
cellarway. 

"Nell— let  me  out!    Quick!    Open  the  door!" 

Nell  Beecroft  took  a  key  from  her  apron  pocket 
and  demanded  harshly  as  she  turned  it  in  the  lock: 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  anyhow?" 

Dr.  Harpe  stumbled  blinking  into  the  light. 

"Oh-h-h!"  she  gasped  in  relief. 

"You'd  better  stay  cached."  Nell  Beecroft  eyed, 
with  a  look  of  contempt,  the  woman  for  whom  she 
had  lied.    "Dan  Treu  was  hero;  he's  got  a  warrant." 

"I  don't  care— I'll  not  go  down  there!"  She 
pinned  wildly  at  the  loosened  knot  of  dull  red  hair 
which  lay  upon  her  shoulders.     "  Thn^  was  fierce!" 


11 


326 


THE  LADY  DOC 


She    looked    in    horror    down    the    dusky   oellarway. 

"What  ails  you,  Ilarpe?"  There  was  no  sympa- 
thy in  the  harsh  voice. 

Dr.   Ilarpe  laugrhed— a   foolish,   apolo<?etic   lau^'h. 

"Spooks— Nell!  Tm  nervous— I'm  all  unstrun<r. 
Moses!  I  thought  all  the  arms  and  lejrs  we've  ampu- 
tated were  chasin'  me  upstairs.     Did  you  hear  me 

scream  ? ' ' 

"No,"  the  woman  reiterated  sharply.  "  Dan 
Treu  was  here,    lie  wants  to  see  you  most  particular. 

"You  didn't  tell  him " 

"Of  course  not." 

* '  You  won 't  go  back  on  mo,  Nell  ? ' ' 
The  woman  regarded  her  in  cold  dislike. 
"No,  I'll  not  go  back  on  you,  Ilarpe.  A  man  or 
a  woman  that  ain't  got  some  redeemin'  trait,  some 
one  thing  that  you  can  bank  on,  is  no  good  on  earth, 
and  stiekin'  to  them  I've  thro  wed  in  with  happens 
to  be  mine.  What  you  goiu'  to  do?  stay  and  brazen 
it  out— this  mess  you're  in— or  quit  the  flat?" 

"Nell,"  she  replied  irrelevantly  with  a  quick,  un- 
certain glance  around,  "I'm  afraid.  Do  you  know 
what  it  is  to  be  afraid?" 

"I've  been  scart."  the  woman  answered  curtly. 
"I've  a  (lueer,  sinkin'  feeling  here,"  she  laid  her 
hand  at  the  pit  of  her  stomach,  "and  my  back  feels 
weak— all  gone.  My  knees  take  spells  of  wobblin' 
when  I  walk.  I'm  afraid  in  the  dark.  I'm  afraid  in 
the  light.  Not  so  much  of  any  one  thing  as  of  some 
big,  intangible  thing  that  hasn't  happened.  I  can't 
shake  off  the  feeling.  It's  horrible.  :^Iy  mind  won't 
stop  thinkin'  of  things  I  don't  want  to  think  of.  My 
nerves  are  a  wreck,  Nell.    I've  lost  m^   grip,  my  judg- 


„„1C    " 


"THE  BJrrER  END" 


327 


Nell  Beecroft  listened  in  hard  curiosity,  eyeing 

her  critically. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  are,  only  you've  never  really  seen 
yourself  before.  You've  took  your  brass  for  courage. 
Lots   of    people    do    that    till    some    real    show-down 

comes. ' ' 

"Look  here,  Nell,"— her  voice  held  a  whine  of 
protest—"  vmu  haven't  got  me  sized  up  right."  Yet 
in  her  heart  she  knew  that  the  woman's  brutal  analy- 
sis was  true.  Better  even  than  Nell  Beecroft  she 
knew  that  what  passed  with  her  following  for  shrewd- 
ness and  courage  in  reality  was  callousness  and  cal- 
culating cynicism. 

The  woman  ignored  the  interruption  and  went  on — 

"So  long  as  you  could  swagger  around  with  Andy 
P.  Symes  to  bolster  you  up  and  a  crowd  of  old  women 
to  flatter  you,  you  could  put  up  a  front,  but  you  ain't 
the  kind,  Ilarpe,  that  can  turn  your  back  to  the  wall, 
fold  your  arms,  and  sling  defiance  at  the  town  if  they 
all  turn  on  you." 

"But  thoy  won't." 

"You've  got  a  kind  of  mulishness,  and  you've  got 
gall,  and  when  things  are  goin'  your  way  you'll  take 
long  chances,  but  they  ain't  the  traits  that  gives  a 
person  the  sand  to  stand  out  in  the  open  with  their 
head  up  and  let  the  storms  whip  thunder  out  of  them 
without  a  whimper." 

"It's  my  nervos,  I  tell  you;  they're  shot  to  pieces 
—the  strain  I've  been  under— everything  goin'  wrong 
— pilin'  on  me  like  a  thousand  of  brick." 

"Is  it  goin'  to  be  any  better?" 

"Some  of  my  friends  will  .^tick,"  Dr.  Harpe  re- 
peated stubbornly. 

"Sure,  they  will,    A  woman  like  you  will  always 


328 


THE  LADY  DOC 


have    a    followin'    among    the    igner'nt    and    weak- 
minded." 

"What  you  roastin'  me  for  like  this?"  The 
woman's  brutal  frankness  touched  her  at  last.  "Who 
and  what  do  you  think  you  are  yourself?" 

"Xothin',"  Nell  Beeeroft  returned  eomposedly. 
"Nobody  at  all.  Just  the  wife  of  a  horse-thief  that's 
doin'  time.  But,"  and  her  hard,  gray  eyes  flashed 
in  momentary  j)ride,  "he  learnt  me  the  diffmnce  be- 
tween sand  and  a  yellow-streak.  They  sent  fifty 
men  to  take  him  out  of  the  hills,  and  when  he  was 
handed  his  medieine  he  swallowed  the  whole  dose  to 
save  his  parduer,  and  never  scjueaked." 

Nell  Beeeroft  walked  to  the  window  swallowing 
hard  at  the  lump  which  rose  in  her  throat. 

"If  I  eould  sleep — ^et  one  night's  decent 
sleep " 

"When  you  collapse  you'll  go  quick,"  opined  the 
woman  unemotionally. 

"But  I'm  goin'  to  see  it  through  —I'll  stick  to  the 

bitter  end — I'm  no  coward " 

Ain  't  you  ? ' '  Sudden  excitement  leaped  into  Well 
Beeeroft 's  voice  and  she  stared  hard  down  the  street. 
"Unless  I'm  mistaken  you're  goin'  to  have  as  fine  a 
chance  to  prove  it  as  anybody  I  ever  see.  Come  here." 
She  pointed  to  a  gesticulating  mob  which  was  turning 
the  corner  where  the  road  led  from  the  Symes  Irri- 
gation Project  into  town. 

"The  dagos!"  Dr.  Harpe's  voice  was  a  whisper 
of  fear. 

"They're  on  the  prod."  Nell  Beeeroft  said 
briefly,  and  strode  to  the  cellar-door.  "Cache  your- 
self!" She  would  have  thrust  Dr.  Harpe  down  the 
stairway. 

"No— no— not  there!    T  can't!    I 'd  scream !"  She 


THE  BITTER  END" 


329 


shrank  back  in  unfeigned  horror.  "I'm  goin'  to  run 
for  it,  Nell !  The  Dago  Puke  has  ribbed  this  up  on 
me ! "  From  force  of  habit  she  reached  for  her  black 
medicine  case  as  she  swung  her  Stetson  on  her  head. 
"If  I  can  get  to  Symes's  house — down  the  alley — they 
can't  see  me " 

Nell  Beecroft,  with  curling  lips,  stood  in  the 
kitchen  doorway  and  watched  her  go.  Crouching, 
with  her  head  bent,  she  ran  through  the  alley,  panting, 
wild-eyed  in  her  exaggerated  fear. 

A  big  band  of  bleating  sheep  on  the  way  to  the 
loading  pens  at  the  station  blocked  her  way  where 
she  would  have  crossed  the  street  to  Symes's  house. 
She  swore  in  a  frenzy  of  impatience  as  she  waited  for 
them  to  pass  in  the  cloud  of  choking  dust  raised  by 
their  tiny,  pointed  hoofs. 

"Way  'round  'em,  Shep!"  The  voice  was  famil- 
iar. ' '  Hullo,  Doc  ! ' '  The  Sheep  King  of  Poison  Creek 
waved  a  grimy,  genial  hand. 

"Hurry  your  infernal  woolers  along,  can't  you?" 
she  yelled  in  response. 

That  other  cloud  of  dust  rising  above  the  road 
which  led  from  the  Symes  Irrigation  Project  into 
town  was  coming  closer.  She  plunged  among  the 
sheep,  forcing  a  path  for  herself  through  the  moving 
mass  of  woolly  backs. 

"You're  in  a  desprit  rush,  looks  like.  They  won't 
die  till  you  get  there!"  The  Sheep  King  waa  not  too 
pleased  as  he  ran  to  head  the  sheep  she  had  turned. 

"Like  the  devil  was  after  her."  He  watched  her 
bound  up  the  steps  of  Symes's  veranda  and  burst 
through  the  doorway. 

The  engineer  had  steam  up  and  the  last  half  dozen 
sheen  were  being  prodded  into  the  last  car  of  the 


330 


THE  LADY  DOC 


long  train  bound  for  the  Eastern  market  when  the 
Sheep  Kinpf  of  Poison  Creek  drew  his  shirt  sleeve 
across  his  moist  forehead  in  relief  and  observed  with 
feeling: 

"Of  all  the  contrary — onery — say,  Bill,  there's 
them  as  says  sheep  is  fools!" 

It  took  a  moment  for  this  surprising  assertion  to 
sink  into  his  helper's  brain. 

"They  as  says  shocp  is  fools "  Bill,  the  herd- 
er's voice  rang  with  scorn,  "  them  as  says  sheep  is 

fools "  great  mental  effort  was  visible  upon  his 

blank  countenace  as  he  groped  for  some  word  or  com- 
bination of  words  sufficiently  strong  to  exp^-ess  his 
opinion  of  those  who  doubted  the  intelligence  of  sheep 
— "is  fools  themselves,"  he  added  lamely,  finding 
none. 

' '  Guess  we  're  about  ready  to  pull  out.  Get  aboard, 
Bill."  The  Sheep  King,  s(iuinting  along  the  track 
where  the  banked  cinders  radiated  heat  waves,  was 
watching,  not  the  signalling  brakeman,  but  a  figure 
skulking  in  the  shade  of  the  red  water-tank.  "  It 
looks  like " 

The  heavy  train  of  bleating  sheep  began  to  crawl 
up  the  grade.  The  Sheep  King  stood  at  the  door  of 
the  rear  car  looking  fixedly  at  the  slinking  figure  so 
obviously  waiting  for  the  caboose  to  pass. 

Dr.  Ilarpe  threw  her  black  medicine  case  upon 
the  platform. 

"Give  us  a  hand."  The  words  were  a  demand, 
but  there  was  appeal  in  the  eyes  upturned  to  his  as 
she  thrust  up  her  ovra  hand. 

"Sure."  The  cordiality  in  the  Sheep  King's 
voice  was  forced  as  he  dragged  her  aboard ;  and  in  his 
cUriOusj    iOuk»,    hia    uOmlritinl    u£    lutuixitsr,    uie    Hiy 


"THE  BITTER  END" 


331 


gflances  and  averted,  grinning  faces  of  his  helpers 
inside,  Dr.  Ilarpe  read  her  fate. 

"Your  name,"  E.ssie  Tisdale  had  said,  "  will  be  a 
byword  in  every  sheep-camp  and  bunk-house  in  the 
country." 

Sick  with  a  baOlod  feeling  of  defeat  and  Ihe  reali- 
zation that  the  proijhecy  of  the  girl  she  hated  already 
had  come  true.  Dr.  Ilarpe  sat  on  the  top  step  of  the 
caboose,  her  chin  buried  in  her  hands,  with  moody, 
malignant  eyes  watching  Crowhcart  fade  as  the  bleat- 
ing, ill-smelling  sheep  train  crept  up  the  grade. 


XXX 


"TniCKFR  Than  Water" 

Essie  Tisdale  pulled  aside  the  coarse  lace  curtains 
starched  to  asbesteroid  stifYness  which  draped  the 
front  windows  of  the  upstairs  parlor  in  the  Terri- 
rry  House,  and  looked  with  fjrowin^  interest  at  an 
excited  and  rapidly  growinfj  f^roup  on  the  wide  side- 
walk in  front  of  the  post-office. 

Such  f,'atherings  in  Crowhoart  nearly  always  por- 
tended a  fi<,'ht,  hut  since  the  hub  of  the  fast  widening 
circle  appeared  to  be  Mr.  Percy  Parrott  gesticulating 
wildly  with  a  newspaper,  she  concluded  that  it  was 
merely  a  sensational  bit  of  news  which  had  come 
from  the  outside  world.  Yet  the  citizens  of  Crow- 
heart  were  not  given  to  exhibiting  concern  over  any 
happening  which  did  not  directly  concern  themselves, 
and  Dr.  Lamb  was  running.  From  a  hurried  walk 
he  broke  into  a  short-stepped,  high-kneed  prance 
which  was  like  tlie  action  of  an  English  cob,  while 
from  across  the  street  dashed  Sohmes,  the  abnormally 
fat  butcher,  clasping  both  hands  over  his  swaying 
abdomen  to  lessen  the  jar. 

She  turned  from  the  window,  and  one  of  the  waves 
of  gladness  which  kept  rising  \vithin  her  again  swept 
over  her  as  she  realized  that  the  affairs  of  Crowheart 
meant  nothing  to  her  now.  A  gulf,  invisible  as  yet, 
but  real  as  her  own  existence,  lay  between  her  and  the 
life  of  which  she  had  been  a  part  such  a  little  time 
before. 

She  looked  about  her  at  the  cotton  plush  furniture 
oi  dingy  red,  at  the  marble-topped  centre  table  upon 

332 


"  THICKER  THAN  WATEU 


333 


whose  chilly  surface  a  lar^e,  gilt-cdgcd  family  Bible 
reposed — placed  there  by  Mrs.  Torriberry  in  the  serene 
confidence  that  \ln  fair  mar^rins  would  never  be  detiied 
throutrh  use.  Beside  the  Bible,  lay  the  plush  album 
with  its  Lombroso-like  villainous  gallery  of  eounte- 
nanees  upon  which  transient  vandals  had  pencilled 
mustaches  re^'ardless  of  sex.  She  looked  at  the  tly- 
roost  of  pampas  grass  in  the  sky-blue  vas«'  on  the  shelf 
from  which  hung  an  old-gold  iambricjuin  that  rep- 
resented the  highest  art  of  the  Kensington  cult — water 
lilies  on  i)lush — and  at  the  crowning  glory  of  the 
parlor,  a  i)ier  glass  in  a  walnut  frame. 

It  was  tawdry  and  cheap  and  offended  her  eye,  but 
it  was  exclusively  her  own  and  she  looked  about  her 
with  a  keen  thrill  of  pleasure  because  of  the  condition 
which  her  occupancy  of  it  represented.  Somehow  it 
seemed  years  ago  that  she  had  walked  around  the  hole 
in  the  ingrain  carpet  in  the  bare  room  which  looked  out 
upon  the  heap  of  tin-cans  and  corrals  of  the  Terriberry 
House. 

Through  the  door  which  opened  into  her  bed-cham- 
ber she  saw  the  floor  littered  with  boxes  and  papers, 
the  new  near-silk  petticoat  draping  a  chair,  the  new 
near-tailored  suit  which  represented  the  "last  cry" 
from  the  General  Merchandise  Store,  the  Parisian  hat 
which  the  clairvoyant  milliner  had  seen  in  a  trance  and 
trimmed  from  memory,  but  the  lines  of  which  sug- 
gested that  the  milliner's  astral  body  had  practised  a 
deception  and  projected  itself  no  further  than  14th 
Street. 

A  fresh  realization  of  what  these  things  meant, 
namely  the  personal  interest  of  some  one  who  cared, 
brought  a  rush  of  tears  to  her  eyes.    They  were  still 

mnifif     'orTlpn     TVfr      TJinViorrI     TTinoairl     QT»r«ioi«orl     in     tVia 


331 


THE  LADY  DOC 


parlor,  his  oyes  twirikliiii,'  abovo  n  i)illar  of  boxes  and 
bundles  vvhic'li  he  carried  in  his  anus. 

"What's  the  matttT,  Ksther?  What  has  hap- 
pened?" He  dropped  tlie  paeka^'es  and  went  to  her 
side. 

She  threw  her  arms  impulsively  about  his  neck 
and  hiid  her  head  iipon  liis  breast  while  she  said  be- 
tween little  .sobs  of  tears  and  la\i<j:hter — 

"I'm  so  happy!  happy!  happy!  Uncle  Dick — 
that's  all.  And  so  f^rateful,  too.  I  love  you  so  much 
that  I  want  to  cry,  and  so  happy  that  T  want  to  laugh. 
So  I  do  boih.  I  didn't  have  to  learn  to  love  you.  I 
did  from  the  fir;t.  It  rime  with  a  rush  just  as  soon 
as  1  found  out  who  you  were — that  we  belonged  to 
each  other,  you  know.  All  at  once  I  felt  so  different — 
so  safe— so  sure  of  you,  and  so  secure- -and  so  proud 
to  think  we  were  related.  I  can't  explain  exactly, 
but  just  being  me,  so  long — not  knowing?  who  I  was 
or  where  I  cam(>  from — and  belonf^ing  to  no  one  at  all 
— it  seems  a  wonderful  thing  to  have  you!" 

.She  turned  her  face  to  his  shoulder  and  cried 
softly. 

He  patted  lier  cheek  and  smiled — a  smile  that  was 
of  sadness  and  understanding. 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  Esther;  T  comprehend 
your  feelings  perfectly.  It's  the  bond  of  kinship 
which  you  recognize,  the  tie  of  blood,  and  let  me  tell 
you,  girl,  there  never  was  a  truer  saying  than  the  old 
one  that  '  blood  is  thicker  than  water.'  Disguise  it 
as  you  will,  and  bitter  family  feuds  would  sometimes 
seem  to  give  it  the  lie,  but  it's  a  fact  just  the  same. 
It  takes  +ime  to  find  it  out— a  lifetime  often — but  deep 
in  the  hoart  of  everj'  normal  human  being  there's  an 
iusliucii'. e,  lulimale,  personal  leeling  for  one's  own 


"THICKER  THAN  WATER" 


335 


flesh  and  blood  that  is  like  nothing,'  »'lso.  Their  kuc- 
cesses  und  their  fjiilures  toueh  uh  closer,  for  the  pride 
of  rate  is  in  us  all. 

"There's  none  who  realize  more  stron^'ly  the  limi- 
tations of  stranpers'  friendships  than  those,  who,  like 
you  and  I.  have  been  dependent  upon  them  as  a 
substitute  for  the  afiVetion  of  our  own.  But  there, 
that's  done  with,  loneliness  is  behind  us,  for  we  have 
each  other  now;  and,  bottled  up  within  me,  I've  tlie 
lonfjinpj  of  twenty  years  to  spoil  and  pamper  some- 
body. When  I  was  the  marryin^^  ape  I  Wi  s  off  in  the 
hills;  since  then  I've  been  too  busy  and  too  critical. 
So  you  see,  Esther  Kincaid  Tisdale,  you  are  filling  a 
long- felt  want." 

lie  kissed  her  with  a  smack  and  she  hugged  his 
arm  in  ecstasy. 

"I'm  going  to  try  and  make  up  fo.'-  what  we  both 
have  lost.  No  harm  can  come  to  you  so  long  as  I  have 
a  dollar  and  the  brains  to  make  more." 

"It's  like  stories  I've  dreamed!"  she  breathed 
happily. 

"But  tell  me," — some  thought  made  him  hold  her 
at  arms '  length  to  read  her  f aco  — ' '  has  there  been  no 
one,  no  one  at  all  who  has  figured  in  thcde  dreams  of 
youi^s  in  a  different  way  from  which  I  do?" 

He  watched  with  something  like  consternation  the 
tell-tale  color  rise  in  her  face  and  her  eyes  drop  from 
his  own. 

"There  was — one,"  she  faltered,  "but  he — I — 
misunderstood — I  was  vain  enough  to  think  he  cared 
for  me.  It  was  a  mistake — a  stupid  mistake  of  mine — 
he  just  liked  me — he  was  lonely — I  suppose — that's 
all."    She  swallowed  hard  to  down  the  rising  lump 


111  uei    luioai. 


336 


THE  LADY  DOC 


"Who  \va8  he?" 

"I  dou't  know  exactly  who  he  was;  he  just  came 
here;  rode  in  ou  horso back— for  his  health,  he  said. 
'I'liey  used  to  say  he  wao  a  hold-up  getting  the  lay  of 
the  town  to  make  a  raid,  or  a  -ambler,  but  he  wasn't, 
he  wasn't  anything  like  that.  You'd  have  liked  him', 
Uncle  Dick,  I  know  you  would  have  liked  him!"  Her 
eyes  were  sparkling  now.  "He  talked  like  you,  and 
\Nlu'n  he  was  interested  enough  to  exert  himself  he 
I'a.l  the  same  .sure  way  of  doing  things.  But  he  went 
away  about  three  weeks  ago  and  did  not  even  say 
good-by." 

'  What  s  his  name  ? ' ' 

She  answered  with  a  a  effort— 

"Ogdcn  Van  Lennop. '- 

"Van  Lennop?"    Kin,  aid's  voice  was  sharp  with 
astonishment.    "Why,  girl,  he's  here.    lie  just  got  in 
and  he 's  raisuig  Cain  in  Crowheart !  I  meant  to  tell 
you,  but  this  shopping  business  quite  drove  it  from 
my  head.     The  news  has  only  come  out  that  the 
Symes's  Irrigation  Company  is  going  into  a  Receiver's 
hands  and  the  bondholders  wil!  foreclose  their  mort- 
gages.    Look  down  in  the  street.     There's  a  mob  of 
workmen  from  the  project  and  the  creditors  of  your 
iriend  Symes  considering  how  they  best  can  extract 
blood   fi-om  a  turnip.     For  some  reason  of  his  owl\ 
Van  Lennop  has  gone  after  Symes's  scalp  and  got  it. 
Don't  be  too  (piick  to  judge  him.   Esther."     But  a 
glance  at  her  face  told  him  he  need  not  plead  Van 
I'^nnop's  cause. 

"He  meant  it,  then!"  she  exclaimed  breathlessly. 

All  that  he  said  that  day  we  ro'''>  together.    I  didn't 

underst.-nd  his  meaning,  but  this  is  it:  'I'll  wear  your 

colors  in  the  arena  where  men  fight— an.l  win.'  h(>  said. 


"THICKER  THAN  WATER" 


337 


'I'll  fipht  with  the  weapons  I  know  best  how  to  use.'  " 

"If  he's  the  member  of  the  family  that  I  think  he 
is,"  said  Kincaid  dryly,  "it's  almost  unsportsmanlike 
for  him  to  go  after  Symes;  it's  like  a  crack  pigeon 
shot  shooting  a  bird  sitting." 

"And  he  said,"  Essie  went  on,  "  'Don't  waste 
your  energy  in  quarrelling  with  your  enemies,  con- 
centrate— make  money  out  of  them.'  " 

"Did  Van  Lennop  say  that?" 

She  noddsd. 

"They'll  pay  tribute,  then.  Van  Lennop  will  put 
this  project  through  in  his  own  good  tiirj;  but  let  me 
prophesy  they'll  be  pitching  horse-shoes  in  the  main 
street  of  Crowheart  first. 

The  sound  of  a  commotion  on  the  stairs  reached 
tl     a. 

"What's  broken  loose  in  this  man's  town  now?" 

As  though  in  direct  answer  to  Kincaid 's  question 
Mrs.  Terriberry  lunged  down  the  corridor  looking  like 
a  hippopotamus  in  red  foulard. 

"If  anything  more  happens" — Mrs.  Terriberrj' 's 
voice  rose  shrill  and  positive — "I  shall  die!" 

A  lunge  in  his  direction  indicated  that  her  demise 
might  take  place  in  Kincaid 's  arms,  but  a  startled 
side-step  saved  him  and  she  sank  heavily  upon  the 
red  plush  sofa.  Her  teeth  chattered  with  a  touch  of 
nervous  chill  and  her  skin      )ked  mottled. 

"She  choked  her!  cbjKed  her  almost  to  death! 
She'd  a  done  it  in  a  minute  more  only  the  hired  girl 
Lroke  her  holt!" 

' '  Who  ?    What  do  you  mean,  Mrs.  Terriberry  ? ' ' 

"Dr.  Ilarpe!  She  choked  Gussie  Synies  because 
Gussie  wouldn't  leave  her  home  and  go  away  with  her! 
Did  you  ever  hear  such  a  thing!"    She  went  on  in 


338 


THE  LADY  DOC 


disconnected  gasps:  "C^azy!  Jealous!  I  don't  know 
what — nobody  does — and  she's  disappeared — they 
can't  find  her."  Mrs.  Torribcrrj-'s  shuddors  made 
the  sofa  creak.  "And  her  active  in  church  work, 
which  they  say  her  lanprwudcre  was  awful!" 

But  Essie  Tisdale  was  listening  to  another  step 
upon  the  stair  and  she  trembled  when  she  heard  the 
steps  hastening  down  the  corridor. 

Van  Lennop  saw  only  her  as  he  came  toward  her 
with  outstretched  hands,  speaking  her  name  with  the 
yearning  tenderness  with  which  he  had  spoken  it  to 
himself  a  hundred  times — 

"Essie— Essie  Tisdale!" 

He  kissed  her,  and  she  yielded,  as  though  there 
were  no  need  for  words  between  them. 

"But  my  letter?  My  telegram?  Why  didn't 
you  answer?" 

Her  eyes  widened  with  astonishment. 

' '  Your  letter !    Your  telegram ! ' ' 

"You  didn't  get  them?" 

"Not  one." 

"Who  did  then?" 

She  shock  her  head. 

"No  one  knew  you'd  gone  but  Dr.  Harpe." 

"Dr.  Harpe!" 

"You  wrote  her!" 

"I  wrote  Dr.  Harpe?"  He  stared  at  her  for  one 
incredulous  second.  "I  wrote  Dr.  Harpe!  She  said 
so?" 

"She  said  you  left  a  letter  for  her." 

There  leaped  into  his  steel-gray  eyes  a  look  which 
reminded  Kincaid  of  the  play  of  a  jagged  fla^sh  of 
lightning.  He  spoke  slowly  and  enunciated  very  care- 
fully when  he  said — 


"  THICKER  THAN  WATER  "  339 

"I  knew  Dr.  Harpe  had  the  instincts  of  a  prying 
servant,  but  I  scarcely  thought  she'd  go  as  far  as 
that." 

"Essie,"  Kineaid  tapped  her  on  the  shoulder, 
"don't  forget  that  your  old  Uncle  Dick  is  here  and 
waiting  to  be  noticed.  ' 

He  laughed  aloud  at  her  confusion  and  said  as  he 
and  Van  Lennop  shook  each  other  s  hand 

"Just  as  I  think  I  'm  fixed  for  h^e,  by  George !  I  'm 
shoved  out  in  the  cold  again;  for  I  am  forced  to 
believe"— his  eyes  twinkled  as  he  looked  at  Vaa 
Iv<^nnop— "that  I  am  not  the  only  H >meseeker  left  in 
C'rowheart. ' ' 


(( 


A  NOVEL  OF  THE  REAL  WEST 

ME— SMITH" 

By  CAROLINE  LOCKHART 

With  five  illustrations  by  Gayle  Hoskina 

i2mo.     Cloth,  ^i.20  net. 


lYflSS  LOCKHART  is  a  true  daughter  of  the  West, 
her  father  jeing  a  large  ranch-owner  and  she  has 
had  much  experience  in  the  saddle  and  among  the  people 
who  figure  in  her  novel,  fl  "  Smith  "  is  one  type  of  Western 
"  Bad  Man,"  an  unusually  powerful  and  appealing  char- 
acter who  grips  and  holds  the  reader  through  all  his 
deeds,  whether  good  or  bad.  fl  It  is  a  story  with  red 
blood  in  it.  There  is  the  cry  of  the  coyote,  the  deadly 
thirst  for  revenge  as  it  exists  in  the  wronged  Indian  to- 
ward the  white  man,  the  thrill  of  the  gaming  table,  and 
the  gentlenesss  of  pure,  true  love.  To  the  very  end  the 
tense  dramatism  of  the  tale  is  maintained  without  relax- 
ation. 

"  Gripping,  vigorous  story."— CAicago  Record-Herald. 

"This  is  a  real  novel,  a  big  novel  "—Indianapolis  News. 

"Not  since  the  publication  of  'The  Virginian'  has  so  powerful  a 
cowboy  story  been  told."— Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"A  remarkable  book  in  its  strength  of  portrayal  and  its  directness 
of  development.  It  cunnot  be  read  without  being  remembered." — The 
World  To- Day. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  PHILADELPHIA 


Fate  Knocks  at  the  Door 

By  WILL  LEVINGTON  COMFORT 

Author  of  "  Routlcdgc  Rides  Alone,"  "She  Buildcth  Her  House  "  etc 

^^ontlsplccc  by  M.  Leone  Bracker 

Cloth,  };i. 25  net.  I'ostpaid,  i$i.37 

l^fHAT  LEADING  CRITICS  SAT: 

EDWIN  MARKHAM.  in  the  N.  Y.  American : 

In  a  long  range  of  story  reading  I   have  never  chanced  upon  a 

nobler  concept  and  act  of  love   than   this  he-o  (Andrew  Bcdient) 

achieves  in  the  clunax;  the  idealism  rises  at  last  to  the  height  of  Jean 

Valjean  s  devotion  in  the  immortal  '  Les  Miserables  '  " 

EDWIN  L.  SHUMAN.  in  the  Chicago  Record-H.rM- 

_  "  Jt  confirms  the  large  promise  of  his  earlier  books.      This  is  the 

npest  novel  he  has  yet  writtcn-an  exceptionally  fine  and  strong 

book  of  a  man  faring  forth  on  the  supreme  adventure  ^ 

"A  volume  full  of  stimulating  idealism.     Mr.  Comfort  is  a  thinker 

as  well  as  a  novelist,  and  ballasts  his  fiction  with  the  crystallized 

Set^Ih    rT'"'^.T^"'";     •      •     •     There  is  not  a  hackneyed 
hne  m  the  book,  and  the  style  is  as  distinctive  as  the  thought." 

GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES,  in  Out  Wc^t  ■ 

'« I  have  just  read  a  novel  that  has  a  sweep  and  power  as  great  as 
that  of  a  mighty  river.      It  deals  with  no  surface  indications  of  life 
but  bores  down  into  life  itself,  its  principles,  its  fundamentals.     It 
IS  a  real  love  story,  yet  as  different  from  the  ordinary  sensuous  or 

W  Th  :'  %?  ''  tr  '^"-  ^°'  ^^^"  '"^^  "--'  "^-ters. 
m-,rv  ]1  r  k'Y'  ''°''  ^''^'''''  ^''^'-  ""g°'  ^''^  P^«ented  so 
ma  vellously  high  a  conception  of  womanhood  and  the  divine  respon- 
sibilities and  glories  of  motherhood  as  has  this  man,  W.l!  Levington 

^Tu'^'aW  ;  ^"'^  '^/"'^''^  '^"^''''^'  P"^  i"  ^°----fe  form,  in 
a  flesh  and  blood  man  and  woman,  pictured  with  a  vigor  and  force 
that  make  them  as  real  as  Btcky  Sharp,  Maggie  Tulliver,  Oliver 
Twist  or  Old  Mortality,  have  any  effect  upon  those  who  obs  rve  and 
tudy  It.  then  Mr.  Comfort's  Andrew  Bedient  and  Beth  Truba  will 
Raise  the  spiritual  temperature  of  the  race.'  .  .  Yet  again  let 
me  assert,  that,  as  a  novel,  it  is  artistic,  interesting,  absorbing." 

LusHERs^P^^^^OTT  COMPANY 

rUBLISHLRS  PHILADELPHIA 


John  Reed  Scott's  Most  Dashing  and  Spirited  Romatice 

THE  LAST  TRY 

By  JOHN  REED  SCOIT 

Author  of  "Thf  Colonel  of  the  Red  lluzzars.-  -rhe  Princess  Dthra.-  -lUatrixoJ 
CUire."  "The  Woman  in  Question.-  "The  Impo      r,"  ••/«  Flfr  (hvn  Right."  etc. 

Three  illustrations  in  color  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 
i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25  net.     Postpaid,  $1.37. 


'T^HIS  is  a  totally  independent  story,  complete  in  itself, 
A  but  in  effect  is  a  sequel  to  "The  Colonel  of  the  Red' 
Huzzars"  and  "The  Princess  Dehra."  In  it  for  the  last 
time  the  Duke  of  Lotzen  trie-:  to  win  the  throne  of  his 
forefathers.  Not  openly  nor  in  kingly  fashion  does  he  go 
about  his  work,  but  sneakingly,  with  all  kinds  of  murderous 
designs  upon  the  life  of  the  rightful  ruler  of  Valeria.  Then, 
when  everything  else  has  proved  futile,  Lotzen  plays  his 
last  card — he  abducts  the  lovely  Dehra,  Queen  of  Valeria. 

How  Armand  meets  this  Last  Try  of  Lotzen which  i% 

played  out  to  a  finish  in  the  capital  of  the  Kingdom  with 
peace  and  quiet  on  every  side—how  he  and  Lotzen  fight  a 
duel  to  the  death  in  Ferida  Palace,  is  told  with  a  vividness, 
a  finish  and  a  dash,  which  Mr.  Scott  has  never  surpassed! 
It  is  the  last  of  the  trilogy  and,  we  think,  the  best. 

'•Spirited,  graceful  an>l  absorbing  at  all  times— hats  off  to  John  Keed  Scott.- 

— Boston  Globe. 
"K  novel  none  should  sidestep,  for  it  would  be  missing  the  best  one  of  the  season." 

—  Grand  Rapids  Herald. 
"  Romantic,  in.,'enious  and  stirring  fiction."— A".   )'.  Times. 


"A  tale  of  adventure  that  never  slackens  its  hcadlorg  tia 
altogether  satislactory  piece  of  fiction."— A>:r/  K»-*  Tribune. 


ace.     It   is  a  lively  and 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  PHII^\  F.LPHIA 


ONE  OF  VS 

By  EZRA  BRUDNO 

Author  ^f'Tht    Ter^ifr" 

■="o.  Clo,h,  «,.,,  „,.     p„,p,ij  g,  j^ 


•his  is  one  of  .w'hS  brt/of  fe  ,L'nques,i„„ably, 
must  b,,  read  wi,h''in«re  ,  bV  Jl^rh"  '";  '"V'\  '"■• 
something  Jeepe,  than  swordlpla y  0"^::  L  "''  'r 
■races  the  experiences  of  a  Y,!,\J\.  ,  ,  ,  '°"'  '' 
leaves  home  and  shows  tl  t  '"'"^'''"'^k  who  early 
later  as  an  artist  It  if  he  v  I  1  "  '  "'"''"'''  ""^ 
out  his  surpassing  JniuV^^  tte  °hfr'o|;«  ^'T 

^bo«y.  S.  is  a  ;rea.?r\rk',hTV.Sr^iehard  tfT"^ 

^;r  Adtr;- n-tti'"^  ^"".  is  of  ;Ser;',T:at 

huLn  Passio'n"  X     Trpiti';  al*  •"'""^1'"?  "^ 
.n  a  fascinating  garment  of  oTIwa";  actio™!  °'  *'^  ''°°'' 

"Ezra  Brudno    *    *    *     ha    tt.    f 
passions  into  his  peopie/'-A'^  jV,'/";|,^°^  breathing  genuine  human 

'•  It  is  miles  ahead  of  the  swarming  broods  of  novels." 

"A  storv  u.h    V,  ^  ■  ,         ■  —^^ashington  Rviuing  Star. 

A  stor>  wh.h  fa.rly  gr,ps  the  reader. "-a.V.,.y,,.,,, 

It  .3  a  revelati on~a  study."-0>../.„^  r^non  Topics. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMP/^NTY 


PUBLISHERS 


PHILADELPHIA 


By     A  MEL  IE     RIVES. 

(PRINCESS  TROUBETSKOY) 


The  Quick  or  the  Dead 


A  STUDYI 

lamo.      Cloth.    Ui.oo 


Barbara    Bering 

A  SEQUEL. 


l2mo.     Qoth.     $1.1^ 


'T^HE  extraordinary  sensation  caused,  at  the  time 
of  publication,  of  these  two  books  (they  are  one 
story)  marked  a  new  thing  in  Hterature.  "The  younger 
Set"  who  did  not  then  read  them  will  be  surprised  at 
their  freshness  and  power  of  interest,  and  those  who 
did  and  are  now  wise  enough  to  renew  their  acquain- 
tance may  be  surprised  at  the  change  in  their  own 
personal  point  of  view  in  the  comparatively  few  years 
since  these  books  were  written. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  PHILADELPHIA 


ONE  CONTINUOUS  JOY-RIDE 

From  the  Car  Behind 


Hy  i:i.KAN()R  M.  INCRAM 

ree  illustrations  in  o.lur  by  James  Montgomery  Fhgg 
I2nin.     Cloth,  j?i. 25  net.     PostraiJ.  )?t.37. 


Three  ill 


'puis  IS  one  continuous  joy  ride  from  the  trial  heat  of 
the  opening  chapters  to  the  exciting  race  at  the 
conclusion.  The  speed  never  slackens  and  one  turns  the 
pages  breathlessly.  The  story  keeps  pace  throughout 
with  the  fast-flying  machines  it  depicts,  whether  a  five- 
cylinder  racer  on  the  track,  the  huge  touring  car  on  the 
highway  or  amid  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  the  factory 
where  the  flyers  are  being  built.  Against  this  background 
of  drivers,  mechanicians,  gasoline,  and  grime,  a  beautiful 
love  story  unfolds  itself. 

rerdi''-Tap"^SS"  "^^^■^"^^-'^-h  will  completely  absorb  any 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

'^^'^'^"^^^  PHILADELPHIA 


The  Mystery  of  Mary 

ByGRACF.  I..  If.  I.LTZ 
Author  of  ■'. Maria  ^rhuyirr.-     /'/,„'-,•  Jhnne.-  -Dawn  of  thr  Morningr 

Frontispiece  in  col<      by  Anna  W.  Stc.k-nan.      i6mo. 
Ornaii.cntal  Cloth,     fi.oo  net.      Postpaid,  ?i.io. 


IF  it  be  difficn'r  to  realize  that  a  hook  can  hold  all  the 
excitement  of  a  detective  story  and  vet  preserve  the 
sweetness  and  charm  of  "Marcia  Schuyl'  "  it  is  only  nec- 
essary to  read  '"The  Mystery  of  Marv"  to  see  how  the 
thing  is  done.  Young  Dunham,  in  ,.  hurry  for  dinner, 
crosses  the  trarks  and  at  the  tun.ul's  mouth  hears  a  faint 
cry  for  help.  The  girl  is  beautif.  '.  hatless,  and  running 
away.  She  answers  no  <]uestions,  hut  Diinh  ,m  will  not 
leave  hci.  How  she  hum  )ro  isly  becomes  a  guest  at  a 
dinner  party  when  she  has  iie\,  met  the  hostes'^,  how  she 
strangely  (and  convincingly)  foils  -ursuit,  and  what  be- 
comes of  Mary,  are  things  worth  learning  for  the  reader 
who  wishes   good  entertainment. 

"A  sprightly  X;i\^:'—Edzvin  M.rkham  in  Xeu>  York  Amrrican. 

"A  story  of  sinr    !ar  thann."-    San  Francisco  Bulletin. 

"An  eighteen  carat  mystery,  l\\\s:'— Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"A  distinctly  unusual  and  bright,  fascir  ning  and  wholesome  story." 

(iT-i       •  ,     ,  r      >        .  — Boston  Globe. 

Ihi.,  IS  one  of  those  fresh,  .vh.   esome,  charming  romances  with  a 
sweet  and  beautiful  heroine."-Po.    .nd.  Ore.,  Evening  Telegram. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


PHILADELPHIA 


yiGOROUS  AND  SPIRITED  TALF.H 

The  Raid  of  the  Guerilla 

By  CHARLKS  KGBERT  CRADDOCK 

With  illustrations  by  W.  Herbert  Dunton  and   Rennngton  Schuyler, 
limo.     Decorated  cloth,  U.zs  net.     Postpaid.  {51.37. 


pHh  d.stmginshed  author  of  the  "Prophet  of  the 
C^reat  Smoky  Mountains"  has  here  given  us 
some  additional  and  admirable  stories  of  this  pictur- 
esque  and    mteresting    region    and    people,    full    of 
humamty,  racy  of  the  soil,  and  told  with  the  true  art 

o?  re'adT  ^^^"  """^  ^"'  '°  '"'"^  thousands 

Buffalo  Commercial. 
"The  literary  quality  is  far  above  the  present  standard." 

—Nfw  York  Sun. 

'  Her  men  and  women,  too,  are  true  to  Uf^^ .„-     u 

",  -re  true  to  life— speech,  manner,  action." 

Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

2::7':^ll!:;^^  "-"^  ^^^'^-^  '^"'---.  which  is  truer  than  the 

— ^'f-    rork  Times. 


rea 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


PHILADELPHIA 


BAFFLING  AND   BEHILDSRING 

A  Chain  of  Evidence 

By  CAROLYN  WELLS 

Author  of  "  The  Clue'    and  "  The  Gold  Bag." 

Frontispiece  in  color  by  Gayle  Hoskins. 
i2mo.      Cloth,  }5i.2S  net.      Postpaid,  ^i. 37. 


npHE  ingenuity  of  that  original  investigator  of 
■*■  crimes,  Fleming  Stone,  was  never  so  brilliantly 
displayed  as  in  this  work — a  novel  full  of  human 
interest,  delightful  love  situations,  and  a  most  sur- 
prising climax. 

A  hot-tempered  old  gentleman  is  murdered  in  his 
apartments.  Suspicion  points  to  either  Jeanette  Pem- 
broke, his  niece,  or  Charlotte,  the  colored  servant. 
There  are  numerous  other  characters  who  become 
involved  in  this  mystery  romance,  among  whom  is  a 
young  bachelor  who  has  long  admired  Jeanette.  To 
all  their  efforts  to  solve  the  matter  it  only  becomes 
more  perplexing  until  Fleming  Stone  is  called  in, 
and  by  a  series  of  brilliant  deductions  discovers  the 
perpetrator  of  the  crime.  The  situations  are  all 
cleverly  handled  and  are  very  dramatic  and  ingenious. 
The  reader's  interest  is  kept  at  the  highest  point  of 
excitement,  and  the  denouement  is  an  agreeable  com- 
bination of  the  expected  and  unexpected. 

"  One  of  those  stories  which  once  begun  cannot  be  put  aside  until 
unished." — Phila.  Press. 

"  Keeps  the  reader  guessing  until  the  last." — Phila.  Inquirer. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  PHILADELPHIA 


A  POWERFUL  STUPr  OF  DUAL  PERSONAUTr 

Hidden  House 

By  AMfiLIE  RIVES 
Author  oj -Quick  or  the  Dead,-  ^ Barbara  Derimr  etc. 

Frontispiece  in  color  by  Gayle  Hoskins.     Decorative  Lining  Papers 
l2mo.    Watered  cloth,  gilt  top.  uncut,  $1.20  net         ^ 
Postpaid,  $1.32. 


T^.nrh"   T"'^''^^"   ''""^^  °^  '    ^"^'    personality,   the 
X    author  has  interwoven  an  unusi.il  love  interest.   A  New 

t^nglander  of  Emersonian  ideals  seek-  seclusion  and 
of  a'n  old  trr'""'  of  Virginia.  He  lodges  in  the  house 
ot  an  old  Scotchman  who  ,s  attended  alternately  by  his  two 

and'daft"£  "  '"^'^"'^  ^"'^  ^'^"^'^  =»"^  ^-^-^  -"*"' 
Marston,  first  attracted  and  held  by  Moina's  fine  and 
womanly  nature,  ,s  enthralled  by  Robina  and  a  situation 
ensues  whtch  for  sheer  power  and  fascination  of  interest 
holds  the  reader  breathless  to  the  unusual  ending  of  Is 
wonderful  story.  Even  those  who  recognize  the  Ltho  ' 
steady  advance  will  be  astonished  at  this  forward  leap  n 
iiterary  power.  ^ 

8l«  of  ,h=  ,.„  ,piri„  kcap  ,ke  .ead^ln^r,! "fnSeT"   ^"^ "™^- 
"u      •  •  ,      .     .  — ^^^"'^''y  Difffst,  X.Y 

-^:i^?sh---^TSS^,f!!5^-^^^^ 

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PUBLISHERS  i,„„;^ 

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